


Out of Place (*old*)

by icarusninja23



Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz
Genre: Abandonment Issues, Bestf Riends, OK SO ACTUALLY I JUST SAW BE MORE CHILL OFF BROADWAY SO I’M GONNA REWRITE THIS, Other, Slow Burn (kinda?), Surprisingly Not Romantic, WITH THE NEW INFORMATION AND SUCH, edit: I POSTED CHAPTER ONE OF THE REWRITE GO READ IT, jake is hopelessly pansexual, michael is a helpful gay pal, not enough jake-centered fics in this fandom, parental neglect, this fic isn’t over i promise i’m just bad at this, this is an entire fic of me projecting onto jake, this isn't really ship-centered it's mostly about friendship, this takes place during and after the musical, undiagnosed mental illnesses, warning: there's a lot of fluff and a lot of angst
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-08
Updated: 2017-08-28
Packaged: 2018-11-11 00:49:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 19,609
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11137944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/icarusninja23/pseuds/icarusninja23
Summary: Jake seemed to feel out of place no matter where he was.He felt out of place in his enormous house, empty aside from him and his cat. He felt out of place in the hospital room; the pristine white walls were like prison bars, and he yearned for escape. He felt out of place in the hotel room, which somehow seemed even lonelier than the empty house. He felt out of place in his friend group, with Rich's absence, and Jeremy's sudden recruitment.He did not, however, feel out of place in Michael Mell's basement.How he'd ended up there was a bit complicated.





	1. Have we Met Before?

Deep down, Jake knew that jumping out the window was a bad idea. The height alone would be a rough fall, but with the extra weight of his friend, it was practically a given that things would _not_ turn out well for him.

But when he ran into his room and saw his best friend lying there, a box of matches next to him, and watched as the flames spread to the door, and felt the scorching heat on his face, the _bad_ idea suddenly became the _best_ idea because it was his _only idea_.

And so, he jumped.

And immediately regretted it.

The first thing he noticed was that the jump didn’t land him that far from the house. As soon as he saw the flames out of the corner of his eye, he knew he had to move Rich and himself further away.

The second thing he noticed was that he couldn’t move. His legs felt completely numb, and his right arm was holding onto Rich. His left arm, though he could move it, wasn’t strong enough to drag both him and Rich away from the house without injuring himself further.

 _How the fuck am I supposed to get out of this?_ he asked himself. He tried to pull himself forward, managing to only move a few inches before pain overtook him. He felt tears prick at his eyes, then quickly start to stream down his face. " _Fuck,_ " he managed to choke out. He tried to look up, make sure nobody was around, but he just curled in on himself, crying into the grass. _Just imagine what they’d say if they saw you like this._ Pathetic. Sad. _No wonder they left you._

Engulfed in his thoughts, Jake didn’t notice the approaching footsteps until they’d ended up right next to him. He felt a weight lifted off his shoulders, literally, as the whoever had walked up to him picked Rich up. The footsteps got quieter, then stopped, then returned.

A hand grabbed Jake’s shoulder. He winced, and heard a gasp.

" _Shit_ , sorry," a voice above him said. Jake didn’t recognize it. "I thought you were passed out."

 _I wish I was_ , Jake caught himself thinking.

The stranger kneeled down next to him. "Are you okay?" they asked.

 _"I’m fine,"_ was what Jake wanted to say, but he barely got through the first word before he fell into a painful coughing fit.

It passed, and the stranger asked, "Can you stand up? Or do you need help?"

Jake struggled to get to his knees. He looked at the stranger and realized that they truly were just that – a _stranger_. Jake swore he’d never seen this person in his life. ( _How’d they end up at my party?_ he asked himself). The stranger was tall-ish (not as tall as Jake, but nobody is), and wore a black sweater with what looked like "REEP" written on the chest. _REEP? The hell does that mean?_ If Jake had been more perceptive, he would have noticed the "C" and "S" on the sleeves. Altogether, the shirt said, "CREEPS." The stranger was Jake’s age, and they had dark hair, dark skin, and black-rimmed glasses. They stared back at Jake with an odd expression; it was a strange combination of concern and fear that Jake found impossible to read clearly. The stranger hesitantly offered Jake a hand and pulled him upright.

Immediately after the stranger let go, Jake felt his legs go out from under him. He grabbed onto the stranger to stop himself.

"Where’s Rich?" Jake asked, then broke out into another coughing fit.

The stranger waited for him to stop before answering. "He’s fine, there’s an ambulance coming for him."

Jake took a few deep breaths. "I think I broke something," he stated, although it sounded far more like a raspy whisper.

"That's what happens when you jump out a window." The stranger hesitated. "I could drive you to the hospital," they offered. "No offense, but you look and sound like you’re dying."

Jake hesitantly nodded. "One question first."

"Yeah?"

Jake shifted awkwardly, trying to look the stranger in the eye. "What’s your name?" he asked.

The stranger let out a quiet chuckle. "Michael," he answered. "Michael Mell."

~~~

The car ride to the hospital was painfully quiet. Jake felt like he was at a loss for words – something _very_ unusual for him. He kept staring at the stranger – _Michael Mell_ – wondering why he didn't recognize him. _Blurry vision, perhaps._ He _was_ still pretty drunk, and even miles away from the house, smoke still seemed to cloud his vision. _Maybe he's new?_ Jake considered, but immediately dismissed it. _No, that's not it_. The name "Michael Mell" sounded familiar, but he couldn't pinpoint where he'd heard it. _Do I have any classes with him? Maybe I did last year, and he just looks a lot different now._ Jake nodded to himself, seemingly content with that answer. Although, in the back of his mind, he knew it wasn't correct.

Michael glanced back at him everyone in a while, but maintained the awkward silence. The ride was pretty short, but they did end up in one bit of stop-and-go traffic, where Michael decided to break the silence.

"So, uh," he said quietly, breaking eye contact from the road to look at Jake. "This is gonna sound weird, but did you see Jeremy Heere leave the party?"

Jake thought back to the party. Chloe claiming that she was screwing Jeremy on Jake's parents' bed. Jake climbing in through the window in a drunken stupor, smashing it open with his fist. (He touched his hand instinctively pulled it back, feeling a painful sting. He looked down at it, the large gash in back his hand was still coated with blood.) Christine telling him off about _something_ , then breaking up with him. The last he saw of Jeremy was him leaving the bathroom while he was on his way to talk to Chloe.

"Not really," Jake admitted. "I didn't see him during the fire, either. I think he left before it started."

Michael looked down. "Okay," he whispered.

And that was the last thing said between the two of them.

~~~

Jake didn’t know what to expect when he came back to school. His stay at the hospital hadn't been too long (he had two broken legs, and he needed stitches on his hand from when he punched the window), and he ended up with the whole weekend to himself at his temporary home – a hotel room. He knew he was out of most extracurriculars – no sports due to his broken legs; and the academic clubs didn’t have anything serious going on – that just left him with the play.

And, well, _class_.

His first day back had been going well. His teachers gave him the work he missed, his classmates asked him how he was doing – everything felt pretty normal, if a bit more mundane than usual. Until he made it to fourth period biology.

Jake's regular biology teacher had apparently come down with a case of “didn’t-feel-like-showing-up,” so there was a substitute. After everyone sat down, the sub passed out a worksheet and started calling roll. He went down the list of names; Madeline Angelo, Bill Collins, Jake Dillinger…

It went on until he said a name that stood out to Jake.

"Michael Mell."

Someone in the back gave a quiet “here,” and Jake turned around. Sitting in the back row, absentmindedly filling out the worksheet, was the person who had saved him only a few days prior. _He’s in my class? How did I not recognize him at the party?_

The sub finished roll and Jake tried to focus on his worksheet, but he couldn’t help but notice how _quiet_ things felt. Usually, Rich would’ve made some sort of shitty science joke, and told him about whichever girl he was dating that week. _I swear, he goes through girls even faster than_ I _do._ Jake chuckled to himself. He looked over to the empty seat next to him, sighing. _Whatever._ He went back to the paper, even though he really had no idea what any of the answers were – _Christ, did they cover a whole_ unit _while I was gone?_ _I wish Rich was_ — _No! I_ don’t _need Rich!_ Jake let out a sigh. He should be _angry_ at Rich, not _missing_ him. The guy burned Jake's fucking house down – why the hell wasn't he bothered?

He looked up and saw Jeremy Heere helping Chloe and Jenna with the assignment. It was weird. Just a few weeks ago, Chloe had called that guy a creep, but now? She couldn’t get enough of him. She was acting way too touchy-feely with him. And so was Jenna, for that matter. _When did he become such a chick magnet?_ Jake couldn’t help but stare at them. He almost felt jealous. Chloe was his ex, and he and Jenna were somewhat friends, but neither of them had even _talked_ to him this period – _no._ They were far too busy flirting with Middleborough High’s newest most eligible bachelor to even bother saying _hi_.

"It’s weird, right?" Jake suddenly noticed someone on his left, in Rich’s empty seat. A student in a bright red hoodie – Michael Mell. "A few weeks ago, those two wouldn’t even look at him. Now everyone's treating him like Menlo Park's Next Top Model. He's like fucking Hercules."

Jake tried to play it off, as if the guy _didn’t_ just read his mind like that. "Who? Jeremy? I didn’t even notice."

Michael rolled his eyes and sat down. "You say that like you _weren’t_ obviously staring at him. It’s fine, I can hardly believe it either."

Jake raised an eyebrow. "You know Jeremy Heere?" _Why the fuck did I ask that? Of_ course _he knows Jeremy. He'd talked about him during the ride to the hospital._

Michael nodded. "He’s not even good at science. He used to copy off my homework all the time." Jake couldn’t help but notice a bitterness in his tone. "Speaking of copying." He slid a few sheets of paper over to Jake. "You can copy my notes, if you want. Since you – uh – you haven’t been here."

Jake looked at the papers. The handwriting and formatting was far neater than Rich’s. It was nice being able to copy off notes he could actually comprehend. He looked back up to Michael. "Thanks."

"If you don’t want it, then—" He cut himself off, realization hitting him. "Oh, uh—It's no problem."

Jake half-smiled and looked through the notes, using them to fill out the worksheet. Michael stayed next to him, awkwardly scrolling through his phone to avoid eye contact, until he felt Jake tap his shoulder.

"Did you draw this?" Jake asked, pointing to a pen doodle in the margins of Michael's notes. It was obviously of Jeremy, and Michael prayed that Jake didn't notice.

"Y-Yeah," he answered. "Sorry, it sucks, I—"

"No, no it's good!" Jake interrupted. "I like how you drew the hair."

Michael looked from the drawing, back up to Jake, back down to the drawing, then up to Jake again – trying to process the compliment. He smiled wanly. "Thanks. I actually—"

A female voice interrupted him. "Hi, Jake!" a girl greeted.

Jake seemed caught off guard. "Oh – uh – Hey, Madeline."

"How are you?" she asked, leaning in close to Jake. "Jenna told me all about what happened. You must feel _terrible_."

"Yeah," Jake responded, looking away. "Actually—"

"I couldn't even _imagine_ how I would feel if that happened to _me_ ," she continued. "I'm glad you're okay! Do you want some help with the—"

"No," Jake blurted out, cutting her off. "No, uh, it's fine. Michael's helping me out."

Michael shrunk back at the mention of his name.

"Oh, okay." Madeline looked at Michael and shrugged, rolling her eyes. "See you later, then." She walked away, leaving Michael and Jake alone again.

Jake turned to him. "Sorry, she's just-- _y'know_. So, what were you talking about?"

Michael seemed shocked at the question. "Well, I—"

A loud beep cut him off. The bell.

"Shit," Jake muttered. "Is it cool if I give these back to you tomorrow?" He gestured to the notes.

Michael nodded. "I don't really need them. Science is my best class," he bragged.

"I suck _ass_ in science, dude." Jake chuckled, lightly punching Michael's arm; he winced. "Hey, maybe you could tutor me."

Michael laughed halfheartedly in response, his eyes somewhere else. "Maybe."

Jake slung his bag over his shoulder and stood up. "Well, I'll see you later!" He shot Michael a smile before walking out of the classroom.

The smile was not returned.


	2. (and Jeremy)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jake feels like his friends are ignoring him, so he makes a new one.

Jake seemed to feel out of place no matter where he was.

He felt out of place in his enormous house, empty aside from him and his cat. He felt out of place in the hospital room; the pristine white walls were like prison bars, and he yearned for escape. He felt out of place in the hotel room, which somehow seemed even lonelier than the empty house. He felt out of place in his friend group, with Rich's absence, and Jeremy's sudden recruitment.

He did _not_ , however, feel out of place in Michael Mell's basement.

How he'd ended up there was a bit complicated.

Without anything to do, Jake spent lunch sitting with his friends (and Jeremy), copying the notes Michael had given him the previous class period. He did not notice Jeremy's eyes wander to the paper, nor the sudden jolt that seemed to course through his body, forcing him to look away.

About halfway through lunch, Jake had finished. Before he put them away, however, he saw a familiar red hoodie clad teen a few tables in front of him staring longingly in his direction. Jake looked up, making eye contact with Michael for a split second before the other boy turned away, covering his face.

Jake continued staring, puzzled. _Was he looking at_ me _?_ He shook his head dismissing the thought, and tried to join his friends' (and _Jeremy_ 's) conversation. They were talking about Eminem, Jeremy parroting random facts about the rapper to Brooke and Chloe, who were totally captivated. Jake zoned out again, searching for an excuse to leave before they started trying to get _him_ to talk about Eminem (he was much more of a Carly Rae kind of guy), when he realized he _did_ have an excuse to leave the conversation.

He shoved his notes in his bag and picked up Michael's. "I'll be right back," he said, grabbing his crutches and standing up.

"Where are you going?" Jeremy asked, as if prompted by some other source.

"Returning something," he replied, gesturing with the papers.

Jake left without another word, making his way over to Michael, who was sitting… _alone? That's fucking harsh._ Jake sat down next to him, and Michael shot him a look before hesitantly taking his headphones off, leaving his hood up.

"Hey," Jake greeted. "I finished with the notes." He held them out.

Michael looked at him, then to the papers, and he grabbed them a bit too forcefully.

Jake was confused. _He was so nice last period, what_ happened _?_ "Thanks, again, for helping me out," Jake thanked, trying to make conversation.

"It's not like you needed it," he responded halfheartedly, not making eye contact. "I'm sure Madeline's notes would've been just as good."

"Not just for the notes. You practically saved my life on Halloween." Jake paused, noticing Michael's unwaveringly harsh expression. "That _was_ you, right?" he added, jokingly.

"Yeah," Michael replied shortly. He sounded impatient, almost bitter.

"That was really cool of you," Jake continued, trying to diffuse the tension. "I mean, we didn't even know each—"

Michael suddenly looked up, glaring daggers into him. "Are you _done_?" he snapped.

Jake jumped a bit at the other's sudden change in tone. "Sorry, what?"

Michael let out a groan. "Which one of them put you up to this? Was it Jeremy?" Jake couldn't find the right response, and Michael took that as a confirmation. "Of course it was." He laughed bitterly.  "It's _so funny_ , isn't it? Now that he's at the top of the food chain, he can shit all over me! _God._ " He turned away, putting a hand to his face.

Jake felt the words finally come to him. "It's not like that at all!"

Michael rolled his eyes. " _Sure_. And you _didn't_ see me staring at Jeremy like I'm some kind of fucking stalker. Go tell _that_ to Jenna Rolan, I'm sure she'll eat it up."

They sat in silence for what felt like forever, Jake mulling over what Michael had said. _Was that_ really _why he thought I was talking to him? What the hell does Jeremy – FUCKING – Heere have to do with this? Why is_ everything _about_ him _?_ He caught himself, a realization coming to him.

**_"A few weeks ago, those two wouldn’t even look at him. Now everyone's treating him like Menlo Park's Next Top Model. He's like fucking Hercules."_ **

**_"He’s not even good at science. He used to copy off my homework all the time."_ **

Jake focused on one specific phrase.

**_"used to"_ **

"Did something happen between you and Jeremy?" Jake blurted out without thinking.

A strange look crossed over Michael's face. "What—Why do _you_ care?" he asked. "You're _Jake Dillinger_. Don't you have anything better to do than chat with some _loser_ about his friendship problems?" He seemed honestly confused.

"Not really," Jake admitted bluntly, casting a glance to his friends' ( _and **Jeremy's**_ ) table. "How about this?" He turned back. "If I tell you about _my_ friendship problems, you tell me about yours."

Michael held back a snicker. " _Jake Dillinger_ has friendship problems? That's hard to believe." He looked away for a moment before turning back. "Fine. You've got me intrigued."

Jake let out a halfhearted laugh. There was a moment of hesitation before he said, "My best friend set my house on fire."

Michael's expression did a complete one-eighty. "Holy shit, that's true? I thought Jenna Rolan made that up."

Jake shook his head, carrying on thoughtlessly. "And the worst part is: I'm not even mad at him about it! I'm just mad at myself for apparently being such a shitty friend that I made him want to burn my house down."

Not knowing what else to say, Michael responded with, "That's kinda fucked up."

"Yeah! I _know_!" Jake paused, ready to change the subject. "Now you. What's up with Heere?"

Michael sighed, casting Jeremy a longing look from across the cafeteria. "It's complicated. I…" He stopped himself. "We had a fight at the Halloween party. And he's been ignoring me for a while, and it's kinda been taking a toll on my self-esteem."

"That's it?" Jake looked unimpressed. "Who cares if Heere's been a dick? It's not like he's your only friend."

Michael gave him a look.

Jake's eyes widened. "Oh my god, he's your only friend," he breathed out, shocked.

"Yeah. I've been _alone_ for a while. We usually hang out all the time, but now it's just me. I can't really hang out with anyone else. I just feel really…"

"Out of place?" Jake finished.

Michael nodded. "I guess you could put it like that, yeah."

Jake half-smiled. "I feel you, bro."

The two sat in a calm silence, until a third voice broke it.

"Hey, Jake." The two whipped around and saw Jeremy standing behind him. "Chloe said she wanted to show you something by her locker before lunch ends," he said casually, sounding rather uninterested.

"Tell her I'm busy and not interested," Jake replied sternly.

Jeremy looked confused, but he immediately tried to hide it. "Okay."

"Hi, Jeremy," Michael greeted bitterly, giving his ex-best friend a wave.

Neither the wave nor the greeting was returned. In fact, Jeremy didn't even seem to notice Michael at all. He started to walk away before Jake stopped him.

"You're not even gonna say anything?" he said, anger piercing his tone.

Jeremy froze, like a deer in his headlights of a speeding train. He took a breath and turned around. "What are you talking about?" he asked in an uninterested tone. _Hell_ , now that Jake thought about it, _everything_ Jeremy did was uninterested.

Jake looked at him, dumbfounded. _Is he really that stupid?_ "Whatever," he dismissed, waving him away.

Jeremy shrugged ( _uninterestedly_ ) and walked away.

Jake immediately turned to Michael. "I see what you were talking about. It's like he didn't even _notice_ you."

"You don't know the half of it," Michael whispered. He slumped down onto the table, sighing.

Jake took a deep breath. He looked back at his friends, all back to chatting with Jeremy. He felt a strange feeling brewing inside of him, but he pushed it down – _it's probably nothing_. He took a breath. "Do you wanna hang out after school?" he asked, without looking away from his friends.

Michael sat up. "Sorry, what?"

"Do you wanna hang out after school?" Jake repeated, turning to Michael. "We could study or just chill or whatever."

Michael looked like he was about to scream. Whether it was excitement or anger, Jake couldn't quite tell. "You're not joking?" _Excitement, good._

Jake shook his head.

"You're serious?"

"Totally."

"I—well—" Michael ran his fingers through his hair. "Where?"

"Your place, preferably. Unless you wanna hang out in a hotel room with my cat."

"Okay." Michael nodded. "My place is fine."

"It'll have to be after play rehearsal, though. It ends at…" Jake paused, trying to remember. "Six, I think."

"Okay," he repeated. "Sounds good."

"Great! I should probably go talk to Chloe. She's probably pissed off at me for ditching her." Jake moved to grab his crutches, but had a sudden realization. He grabbed a sheet of paper from his bag and scribbled something down on it. "Here. Text me your address, when you get the chance."

Michael took the paper and looked at it for way longer than necessary. He shoved it in his pocket. "Okay," he repeated, _again._ "See you at six, then."

Jake grabbed his crutches, flashing Michael a grin before walking back to his table.

Michael smiled back. He might have been alone again, but things felt different. Things had changed.

Things were in place.

~~~

And thus, at approximately six-ten, Jake found himself knocking on the door of Michael Mell's house. He looked back at Christine's car, both her and Chloe waving goodbye at him through the window. He caught a glimpse of Jeremy in the backseat, staring blankly – not at Jake, but at the house.

When they'd pulled up, Jake had expected Jeremy to make a comment, or at least give some acknowledgment of the fact that Jake was going to be hanging out at his former best friend's house. But there was nothing. Jeremy had looked at the house and _started_ to say something, but he cut himself off, flinching like someone had just tried to punch him.

Jeremy did that _a lot,_ Jake had begun to notice. Start to say something, then immediately cut himself off, flinching like that. Jake didn't take much note of it at first, just assuming it was something Jeremy did, some weird quirk of his. But earlier, at play rehearsal, he'd noticed Jenna doing the same thing – but when she flinched, it looked less like someone had almost punched her, no. It looked more like someone had shoved a knife in her back, and twisted it. She had started to twitch uncomfortably constantly, sometimes muttering under her breath. Jake couldn't help but notice how strange it was.

Jake couldn't help but notice how familiar it was.

_Jake couldn't help but notice how much it reminded him of Rich sophomore year._

Jake shook off the thought as he heard a high-pitched yipping – _did Michael have a dog? Hell yeah._ Jake loved dogs.

He heard a quiet "shh" from behind the door, and a small click as it was unlocked. The door opened, and there Michael stood. And behind him?

_The cutest goddamn dog Jake had ever seen._

The pup (a Shiba Inu, if Jake's dog knowledge was correct – _which it totally was_ ) immediately ran up to Jake, jumping up onto her hind legs and placing her front paws onto Jake's thigh.

Jake smiled and rubbed her head, completely enamored with the dog, barely registering the dull pain in his legs. She looked up, poking Jake's wrist with her nose, and started trying to lick his hand. He laughed a bit. "Down, girl," he whispered to no effect. She continued trying to climb Jake, only managing to nearly make him fall over.

Michael whistled. "Go home, Zelda," he commanded. Zelda did so, backing off of Jake and running back into the house. Michael looked back up at Jake. "You really are a chick magnet – even my dog is all over you." Jake chuckled, and Michael looked accomplished. "Thanks," he said. "Come on in." He backed up and Jake entered the house.

The first thing Jake noticed was how nice and _lived in_ the house looked. For anyone else, that would be a rather odd compliment, but for Jake it was something special. Since his parents left, Jake's house had been far too pristine. It was partially Jake's own fault – he'd wanted things to look nice in case his parents ever showed back up – but it made the house feel all the more empty. It was like nobody lived there – half of the rooms weren't even _used_. Sometimes Jake found himself sitting one of the guest rooms, just so somebody _did_. Entering Michael's house, Jake felt a strange warmth wash over him. It felt good.

Michael shut the door behind them, the noise snapping Jake out of his thoughts. "So," Michael said. "What do you wanna do?"

"Sit down," Jake joked, gesturing to his crutches.

"Heh, yeah, okay." Michael led Jake to the living room, where he motioned to a large white leather couch.

Jake sat down, leaning his crutches against the arm of the sofa.

"So, uh…" Michael hesitated. "Do you like video games?"

Jake remembered the times he'd hung out with Rich and played Halo on his Xbox. He internally cringed. "I suck at video games," he replied straightforwardly. "Rich always kicks my ass."

Michael chuckled. "We can play co-op, then," he suggested. "So I won't kick your ass."

"What game?" Jake asked.

Michael grabbed a disc and held it up. The title read: " _Apocalypse of the Damned: Resurrection._ "

"Is that the reboot?" Jake said, concerned, remembering how poorly Rich had spoke of the game upon its release. "Didn't that get _really_ shitty reviews?"

Michael shook his head. "No no no – you're thinking of ' _Apocalypse of the Damned:_ _The Revival_ ,'" he corrected, matter-of-factly. "' _Resurrection_ ' is the third game in the new series that ' _Revival_ ' started. But ' _Resurrection_ ' is _way_ better. Both of them are shitty compared to the original trilogy, but the console for those is set up downstairs, and the basement stairs are _not_ safe to walk on with crutches."

"It's chill," Jake shrugged. "You sure know a lot about ' _Apocalypse of the Damned._ '"

Michael laughed uncomfortably. "Video games are kind of my thing."

"I've never played it," Jake admitted. "But it wouldn't hurt to try."

"Hell yeah!" Michael exclaimed, putting the game in. He tossed Jake a controller and sat down next to him on the couch.

_Level one: Start!_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey folks! sorry the update took so long, my laptop has been a real pain in my ass lately :/
> 
> alrighty, ending bits!
> 
> \- this is going to include a LOT of headcanons just a warning b/c it only gets more headcanon-y from here, folks  
> \- michael's dog is based off a joke that i made (something along the lines of "i bet michael would get a shiba inu specifically because of the doge meme)  
> \- jake is a dog person, but he'd never buy one because his mother is allergic, and if his parents ever come back, he has to be prepared (he has a kitty named sbarro who is briefly mentioned in this chapter, i think)  
> \- not really a note, but if you spot any typos, PLEASE LET ME KNOW! i proofread these things to hell and back, but if one slips by, i'd really like to fix it  
> \- thank you all so much for your feedback on chapter one! your comments were all so nice, and i hope you enjoy the rest of the story!  
> \- i love you guys! have a nice day! :)


	3. Breaking Point

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael tells Jake a secret. Jake is afraid.
> 
> (TW for panic attacks)

After about an hour of trying (and failing) to beat level two of _Resurrection_ , Michael finally realized just how _awful_ Jake was at video games. It was almost comedic – every time Michael would save Jake's character from a zombie hoard, Jake immediately ran into _another_ zombie hoard that Michael had to save him from. Jake ran out of ammo constantly, due mostly to his horrible aim, and using his melee weapons only resulted in a zombie with a chainsaw hacking his avatar to pieces in full 1080p glory.

("How did that zombie even _get_ a chainsaw?" Jake had asked rhetorically, throwing his arms up in frustration.

"Probably Zombie Wal-Mart," Michael had replied, reloading the level.)

The duo eventually gave up on the game, and Michael had turned the TV onto some _Harry Potter_ movie marathon before leaving to grab a drink from the basement. Jake opted to use the brief moment of silence to check his phone.

He scrolled through his texts. One from Madeline: "Hope you're feeling okay!" followed by a string of incomprehensible emojis. One from Brooke: "Heard you went out after rehearsal. Need a ride?" Jake smiled. Brooke was always so nice to him – especially considering how much it probably sucked being his constant personal chauffeur. She was probably Jake's closest friend, aside from Rich. It was nice having someone who he could be totally honest with – he couldn't really get that with Rich. Rich had his own problems – _Hell_ , they must've been worse than Jake thought, considering the whole thing that had happened on Halloween. _Or maybe that was just my fault for being a shitty friend._

Ignoring the thought, Jake went to message Brooke, but was cut off by his phone buzzing. A caller ID popped up – _Chloe._

Jake let it vibrate for a few seconds before reluctantly answering. "Hello?" he greeted.

"Jakey!" Chloe replied cheerfully. Jake heard others talking loudly in the background. "So, me, Brooke, Jeremy, and Christine are all hanging out at Pinkberry ATM. We're running lines and shit." ( _Of course Chloe would be running lines the week of the play,_ Jake thought) "Wanna join in?" Jake heard a feminine voice yell something in the background. " _Fine._ Jenna's here, too," Chloe added, scoffing.

Jake paused, hearing the basement door reopen. "I can't right now, Chlo."

Michael stopped just past the doorframe, carrying two bottles and pretending like he wasn't listening to Jake's conversation.

"Why not?" Chloe asked. "If you need a ride, Brooke can—"

"No, it's not that," Jake huffed. "I'm busy right now."

"Busy with _what_?"

"I'm just _busy_ —" Jake waved an arm for emphasis "—is that not an excuse?"

"Come _on_!" she whined. "You're missing out on all the fun! Christine's trying fro-yo for the first time, you don't wanna miss that, right?"

Jake sighed. "As fun as that sounds, I can't."

There was a short pause, some indistinct chatter being the only noise coming from the other line. Jake looked at Michael, who seemed confused or concerned or – _ugh._ Jake had always thought he was good at reading others, but Michael always seemed to be an enigma. It was frustrating as all hell.

"Can I go now?" Jake asked into the phone. "I—"

"You're still hanging out with that weird guy, aren't you?" Chloe interrupted, sounding rather offended. "' _Mitchell_ ,' or whatever? What, are you doing a project together or something?"

"First of all," Jake started, frustration evident in his tone, "it's ' _Michael_ ' – not like you care." He paused for emphasis. "Secondly, I'm hanging out with him because we're… _friends_?" He looked back to Michael for validation. Michael shrugged, giving a sort of half-nod. "Friends," Jake repeated, only slightly more certain.

"Come on," Chloe sighed. "Ditch that guy and come hang with us! He won't mind."

At this point, Jake was ready to snap. _Why couldn't she just take no for an answer?_ He restrained himself, and responded as calmly as he could. "Chloe, I know this may seem shocking, but I _actually_ have a life outside of you. So, I am _not_ going to Pinkberry. Just have fun without me, and we can hang after rehearsal tomorrow if you really want." He paused. "Okay?"

"Fine," Chloe scoffed. "Bye."

Jake wasn't able to respond before she hung up.

Jake set his phone on the coffee table, letting out a sigh. Michael sat down next to him, placing an ice-cold soda bottle in Jake's hand.

Jake looked down at the bottle. Inside was a clear fizzy liquid. He turned the bottle over, inspecting the label, which read—

"' _Crystal Pepsi?_ '" Jake said questioningly, giving Michael a curious look.

Michael nodded. "Crystal Pepsi," he repeated assuredly. "It's like regular Pepsi, but clear."

Jake twisted the bottle around in his hands hesitantly, as Michael opened his bottle.

"Relax, bro. It's _cool_ ," Michael assured, taking a sip. Jake shrugged, doing the same.

"Wow," Jake whispered, unimpressed. "It… tastes just like regular Pepsi."

"Yep. That's the point."

The two sat in silence for a bit, the commercial break ending to reveal a scene near the start of " _Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire._ " Jake tried to watch the film, although he'd seen it a million times (Chloe _really_ liked " _Harry Potter_ "). He couldn't seem to focus on it, his gaze kept drifting away from the TV before he forced himself to look back.

Michael broke the silence. "What was that phone call about?" he asked, shifting forward and turning to Jake.

"Chloe," Jake answered simply. "Her and Heere and a few others are hanging out at Pinkberry running lines."

"Jeremy's there?" Michael asked.

Jake nodded. "That's why I'm _not_ ," Jake replied. "I'd rather be _here_ than with _Heere_." He laughed at his own joke. "No offense, but he's kind of a huge dick."

Michael shifted uncomfortably, mumbling something under his breath.

"What?" Jake asked, suddenly concerned. _Why the fuck did I just say that?_ "Was it what I said?"

"It's—" Michael started, then stopped himself. "Nothing. Forget it," he dismissed.

Jake was having none of it. Michael was _definitely_ hiding something about Jeremy, and Jake felt a sudden need to know _what._ "Dude, it's fine," he assured. "You can tell me."

Michael shook his head. "No, I really _can't_."

"Michael, if it's embarrassing or whatever, then I _swear_ that whatever it is will not leave this couch."

Michael turned to Jake. Seeing the pleading look in his eyes must have made him relent. " _Fine_. I'll tell you. _But_ —" he waved his hand for emphasis "—you have to _promise_ that you'll believe me. What I'm about to tell you is one-hundred percent _true_."

 _Where the hell is he going with this?_ Jake thought. "I'll believe you," he promised. "Cross my heart, scout's honor, and all that."

Michael took a deep breath. "It's not Jeremy's fault that he's acting like this," he stated certainly.

"Bro, don't blame it on yourself!" Jake interrupted, jumping to the most logical conclusion. "It's not—"

"I'm not done, Jake," Michael continued. "Jeremy has been acting like this because…" He hesitated, then quickly rushed out, "Jeremy took this pill-sized supercomputer called a SQUIP. It's supposed to help people solve problems, I _guess_ , and Jeremy is using it to make himself cool and that piece of _shit_ thinks that Jeremy acting like an asshole is helping with that." Michael paused, looking at Jake, prompting a response.

"I know I said I'd believe you," Jake responded, "but I am almost certain you're bullshitting me right now."

Michael gave him a pleading look. "I'm _not_! I swear! I thought it was fake too, mostly 'cause _Rich_ was the one who—"

Now _that_ caught Jake's attention. "What does Rich have to do with this?" he asked.

"Rich has one, too!" Michael exclaimed. "And he's been dealing them to students! That's how Jeremy got it in the first place!"

Jake broke eye contact for a moment, turning to the floor. "That's why Rich was acting so buddy-buddy with Jeremy before he…" Jake shot up, eyes wide. "Holy shit, it all adds up!"

"How so?" Michael pried.

"Sophomore year, Rich started acting…" Jake took a moment to find the right word. " _Different_. He started going out with all these girls, and going to _parties!_ And, like, Rich fucking hated parties! He never even went to _mine_!"

"Jake, stay on topic," Michael interjected.

"Right." Jake took a breath, getting back on track. "I think that might've been when he got it. Sophomore year." Jake shifted warily, picking at his jacket sleeve. "But there's…" He paused hesitantly. "When did Jeremy get his SQUIP?"

Michael gave Jake a curious look. "Late September. The," he hummed in concentration, " _twenty-third_ , I think? That was when he stopped texting me, at least."

"Do you know if there are any… side effects?"

"Other than acting like a total dick?" Michael joked.

Jake cast him a steely look.

"Sorry, wrong time," he apologized. "I was talking to this guy about it online. He said his brother ended up in a mental hospital because of it. The guy got drunk as hell and tried to kill himself."

Jake gasped. "His—His SQUIP made him do that?" Thoughts were whirring through his head at a mile a minute, one standing out among all of them. _If_ his _SQUIP made him do_ that _, then what did that mean for Rich?_

Jake was knocked out of his thoughts when Michael shook his head dismissively. "That's the thing," Michael continues. " _It_ didn’t make him do that. He did that to try and get it _out_."

"What?" Jake blurted out.

"I think alcohol shuts it off temporarily," Michael explained. "But I guess since nobody knows how to shut it off _permanently_ , he decided to…" He stopped, making a vague gesture with his hands before holding them near his chest and wringing them nervously.

There was a long pause, the joyful commercial jingles on the TV in complete contrast to the mood in front of the screen. The tension was so thick, you could cut it with a knife; neither boy was sure what to say, both caught up in their own worry and concern. Jake, mulling over this new information, and Michael, Jake assumed, worrying over his ("former") best friend.

Jake couldn't take it anymore. There was something he needed to know, and the closest he could get to an answer was sitting right next to him. "Do you think that's why Rich set that fire?" he asked.

Michael froze. He started to say something, but stopped, looking down.

"I should've helped him," Jake blurted out. "I should've done something." Tears started to cloud his vision, but he hardly noticed nor cared. "I _could've_ done something, but I…" He ran a hand through his hair, lightly tugging at it. "I _didn't_. I did _nothing_. I just did _nothing_."

"Jake, relax." Michael whispered calmly, moving to place a hand on Jake's shoulder. "It's not your fau—"

" _Yes, it is!_ " Jake screamed, slapping Michael's hand away. He felt angry tears rolling down his cheeks. _Now look what you've done, dumbass. He probably thinks you're insane. He's going to tell_ everyone _about this. He_ hates _you. Everyone will_ hate _you._

Jake covered his face with his hands, his body wracked with sobs – _stop crying_. He saw Michael stand up out of the corner of his eye _– he's running away, just like everyone else_. Every thought was screaming at him to get out; to leave before things get worse – _as if they could possibly get any worse_ – but Jake could hardly bring himself to move. He was shaking – _why am I shaking_ _so bad_? He felt bile rising up in his throat – _you need to calm down_. He curled in on himself, his elbows uncomfortably digging into his casts, but he didn't care. He tried to stop himself, but every shaky breath only led to him choking on another sob.

It felt like it went on for hours, but hardly a few minutes had gone by Michael returned, holding a cup and a tissue box.

"Hey, Jake," Michael started, voice hardly above a whisper.

Jake could feel Michael looking at him, which only made him hurt worse – _nobody can see you like this nobody can see you like this nobody can see you like this._ "I'm fine," he choked out, covering his face even more.

"Jake," Michael repeated. "It's okay, I'm gonna help you." He set the cup and tissue box on the coffee table, and sat down next to Jake.

 _You don't need his help. You shouldn't need his help_. "I'm _fine,_ " Jake repeated, even quieter.

"Jake, you've gotta trust me on this," Michael whispered reassuringly. "I'm here to help."

_You don't need his help you don't want his help you don't deserve his—_

"Okay," Jake breathed, trying to block out his thoughts.

"All right," Michael responded, and Jake could hear the smile in his voice. "I want you to try and sit up."

Jake pushed himself up, using his arms to support himself. He wiped tears away with his sleeve, and fought to keep any more from falling. Getting to see the concern in Michael's face made that even harder.

"Okay, good," Michael continued. "Now try to focus on your breathing."

Michael gave off a few more instructions – a breathing exercise that Jake found far harder than he was willing to admit; constantly reminding Jake to sit back up whenever he found himself hunching forward; et cetera – and Jake followed them to the best of his ability. It took a few minutes, but eventually the tears, the shaking, and his intrusive thoughts seemed to stop for the most part. His throat felt dry, and his eyes were stinging, and his chest was sore – but at least the worst part was over, right?

He looked at Michael, who silently offered him a glass of water. _It's not over, is it?_ Jake was struck with the sudden realization that he'd have to _talk_ to Michael about what just happened, and he was _not_ prepared for that. Michael would just say it was stupid, or that Jake was just pretending to freak out for attention, or the he was _just being irrational, and you need to stop acting like this or nobody's going to like you, and—_

"Jake?" Michael said, sending Jake out of his thoughts.

Jake jolted back to reality (quite literally, as he jumped slightly when Michael said his name), and grabbed the cup from Michael, his shaky hands splashing a few drops of water onto himself.

The two sat in silence again, however this time it was broken by Michael.

"Jake, if you don't mind me asking, uh…" Michael hesitated. "What was that about?"

Jake ignored the question, instead pretending to focus on the film. It had reached the scene in the lake. Fitting, considering Jake felt like he was drowning.

Michael gave Jake a concerned look. "Jake—"

"Y'know I've actually got a really funny story about this movie?" Jake interrupted, changing the subject. "While me and Chlo were dating, she went through this _huge_ Harry Potter phase, and—"

" _Jake,_ " Michael repeated sternly. He could obviously tell what Jake was trying to do. _Shit_.

"I-It's not that big a deal," Jake dismissed, his voice sounding far more timid than he would've liked. _Come up with something say something literally anything_ "This sort of thing happens a lot."

_Fuck! Not that not that not that_

Michael gave Jake a look that he could easily decipher. It was one he didn’t see often, but knew all too well. _Pity_.

"Look, I'm sorry," Jake apologized, reaching for his crutches. "I fucked up your afternoon. I'll just—"

"Jake, are you okay?"

Jake's arm froze midair, and he started reeling it back, the question whirring in his head. "Y… Yeah, I'm…" Suddenly, it became far too hard to say. _What's the point in lying when he already knows?_ Jake felt like he was going to break down again. The room was spinning, the walls were closing in on him, there was nothing left to do.

Jake had to tell the truth.

" _No_ ," Jake admitted. "I'm not okay. I'm not _fine_. I'm…" He bit his lip, the words leaving a sour taste in his mouth. Right after the phrases came out, he wanted to put them back. _Michael doesn't care, idiot. Nobody does._ "Look, I should—"

"Do you wanna talk about it?"

Jake felt his shoulders relax. Now _that_ wasn't a response he'd planned for. _Painful rejection, a sympathetic monologue –_ sure, _those_ were expected, but…

"Yes," Jake replied, without a second thought. He turned around to face Michael again, realization hitting him. "I… I don't know where to start, to be honest."

"Have you…" Michael gave him an anxious look. "Jake. Have you _ever_ talked to anyone about this?"

Jake chuckled slightly. "Nobody's ever asked," he admitted.

Michael shrugged a shoulder. "Just say what's on your mind, I guess."

And so that's what Jake did.

"I'm scared," Jake said.

"Of?" Michael prompted.

"I'm scared Rich won't forgive me for what I did at the party," Jake explained. "Before the fire, he came up to me and started saying all this weird shit about hive minds and how he really needed red Mountain Dew. And I _wanted_ to help, but I was in the middle of a conversation. Then Jenna came down and told me about what Heere was doing with Chloe and…" Jake rubbed at the stitches on the back of his hand. "I ditched him. I ditched my _best friend_ when he needed me."

"You're not the only one," Michael interjected.

Jake quirked an eyebrow. "What?"

Michael stuttered a bit before finding what he wanted to say. "After the whole thing with Chloe, Jeremy ran off into the bathroom to hide from you. I was…" Michael covered his face with a hand. "I was in there trying to get away from the party when he showed up. I warned him about the SQUIP, but he wouldn't listen to me. He said I was _jealous_ and that he didn't need my help. He…" Michael paused, blinking away tears. "He called me a loser, can you believe that? _He_ was a loser before he got that pill! He probably wouldn't have even gotten it if it wasn't for _me._ " Michael's voice caught in his throat, and he wiped a few tears away with his sleeve. " _Shit_ ," he joked. "Now we're both crying."

Jake chuckled in response, but his face grew somber. "That's… awful," he said. "I can’t believe I pulled a ' _Jeremy Heere_ ' on Rich."

"I guess that was a pretty shitty night for everyone," Michael stated.

"Except Jeremy."

"Yeah," Michael half-smiled.

"It wasn't all bad, though," Jake admitted, looking Michael in the eyes.

"Really?" Michael chuckled, looking back. "What good came out of it?"

"At least I got to meet you," Jake answered warmly, a smile gracing his lips.

Michael muffled a laugh with his hand.

"Feeling's mutual, pal," he said kindly, holding his hand out for a fist bump.

Jake went in for a hug instead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed your ride on the Depression Train b/c next chapter will be happier(?)
> 
> -jake doesn't like to talk about his problems, so he bottles things up a lot  
> -michael is a Literal Angel who just wants to help  
> -chloe just can't take no for an answer! i got that from her portrayal in the play and tbh i know ppl like her and in this situation, I Am Jake Dillinger  
> -Zelda sadly does not make an appearance in this chapter, she's taking a nap in the kitchen
> 
> idk when the next chapter will be out, might take a while. my name is @icarusninja23 on tumblr if you wanna track updates or watch my bmc shenanigans! have a wonderful day! :)


	4. They Can Yell and Hurt Like Hell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jake realizes his problems run deeper than he thought. He and Michael have a talk.

Jake was a morning person.

He wasn't sure how exactly he'd ended up that way.  He still had relatively recent memories of his father coaxing him out of bed to go to school, or church, or some other event that required getting up prior to eleven; he probably would've slept through the end of the world, presuming it happened in the morning – but something had changed around the middle of sophomore year. Something changed after his parents left.

Perhaps it came with being self-reliant. Without anyone to wake you up if your alarm dies, you'd have to develop a strong circadian rhythm to do anything on time. Because if you don't wake up on time, you won't have time to feed the cat, or water the plants, or make yourself breakfast. If you don't wake up on time, you won't get to school on time, or meet up with Brooke, or have Rich show you that cool skateboard trick he learned (so he can "accidentally" hurt himself and get out of first period algebra). You won't have time to eat, or chat with Chloe or Christine or Jenna.  The routine that Jake had grown accustomed to since his parent's departure was how he kept his life structured. And that structure just happened to begin at five in the morning.

After the fire, the routine may have changed, but the structure stayed put.

Jake was lucky Brooke was even more of a morning person than him.

Jake had lost a lot in the fire – his house, nearly all of his clothes (thank god he'd grabbed his jacket, he didn't know how he could survive without it), and – worst of all – his _car_.

Jake's car was, to put it in layman's terms, a straight-up _beast_. A jet black 1969 Ford Mustang Boss with dark grey leather interior and a decked out stereo. His parents had gotten him the car for his sixteenth birthday – to congratulate him on not only getting his license, but also on his amazing grades.

Rich had been the first one to see it in person a few days later, when Jake had to pick him up after he'd gotten into an argument with his dad, that had escalated into a physical fight. He and Jake had driven around for a few hours, grabbing some dinner at Denny's at about one in the morning, until they eventually went back to Jake's house, where Rich stayed the night. He remembered the house being silent except for he and Rich's footsteps – odd, considering Jake's parents _usually_ would've been up and asking him where he'd been for the past few hours.

He remembered waking up that morning to an empty house.

That car was Jake's prized possession – the one thing that reminded him that, even though they left, and they probably weren't ever coming back, his parents still loved him.

Jake remembered the day after the fire; he'd been sitting in a hospital bed checking his social media when a video caught his eye. Someone from the party had filmed the fire from the other side of the street.

Jake didn't exactly want to watch the video, but something inside him said that he _had_ to. He had to know what happened after Michael drove him away. He had to know what he didn't see.

The flames were covering the house, and emergency services still weren't there. It hurt to look at, but he kept watching.

He kept watching as the fire claimed the garage.

He kept watching as the floor above it started to sink as its supports were burned away.

_He kept watching as it collapsed onto the garage._

The car did not survive the fire, and Jake felt that a little part of himself had been crushed and buried under the rubble with it.

Therefore, the first thing Jake needed to do after getting out of the hospital was get a ride to school – and that ride became Brooke.

Brooke would arrive at Jake's hotel building at six in the morning, every morning. She would wear a smile and whatever hue of pastel Chloe would be wearing the following week. She'd go upstairs to the fourth floor and knock six times before pulling out a room key and opening the door. She'd head over to the couch, where Jake would be waiting, and pull out breakfast from a bag labelled with whatever fast food chain was having a special that day. She'd ask Jake if he slept well (the answer would always be "yes," even if it wasn't), and then she'd ask the same question again if Jake lied (she would know, she would always know). They'd chat for a bit, then Brooke would drive them to school.

The system was far different than what Jake was used to – considering it used to be _him_ doing all of this stuff (breakfast, driving to school, et cetera) – but he found himself steadily growing fond of it. He knew it wouldn't last forever – eventually Jake's legs would heal, and he'd get a new car, and he'd find a permanent place to live – but for now Jake felt a strange sense of comfort in the new circumstance.

~~~

The Tuesday before the play, Jake woke up at five in the morning to his cat, Sbarro, pawing at his stomach. Jake rolled over onto his back, tiredly grumbling under his breath. He sat up, stretching, and turned to look at the little kitty sitting next to him. Jake gave Sbarro a little pat on the head, and he responded with a quiet "mrah" sound. Jake smiled, and gave him a scratch under the chin.

After a few minutes spent petting Sbarro and psyching himself up to get out of bed, Jake finally got out of bed. He maneuvered himself over to the kitchen and grabbed a bottle of Crystal Pepsi that he'd taken from Michael (he was right, it _was_ cool). His gaze fell to the stove, still unused. The idea of cooking something popped into his head, but he dismissed it, figuring Brooke was probably going to be bringing something anyways, and Jake didn't quite feel comfortable around the stove ( _too much of a fire hazard_ ). He went over to the couch, feeling far more tired than he wanted to be. Getting dressed and brushing his hair and actually making himself look presentable felt like a hassle. _Maybe I could skip today? I doubt Brooke's on her way yet._

But skipping meant getting another unexcused absence on his record, and one more meant a call to his parents, and _God only knows_ how the school would react to both numbers being inactive or used by someone else, because as far as _they_ knew, Jacob Clayton Dillinger lived with his two _loving_ parents Sarah and Marc Dillinger, who were both accountants, and definitely _alive_ and _not_ hiding from the law in Barbados or Uruguay or Peru or wherever…

_Yeah, bad call._

Jake reluctantly got back up and got himself ready – trying to keep his signature " _Cool Guy Style_ " while he felt like he was dying inside.

Eventually five o' clock melted into five-forty-five, and Jake heard a knock at the door.

Or, _six_ knocks, to be precise.

"You're early," Jake greeted from his spot on the couch, after hearing the door open.

Brooke entered and set a paper bag and two medium coffee cups on the coffee table in front of Jake. "I said ' _around six_ ,' not ' _exactly six o'clock every day_.'"

Jake rolled his eyes and took a look at breakfast. " _McDonald's_? Really?"

"They were having a two-for-two deal on McGriddles!" Brooke defended, handing Jake a sausage McMuffin. "I couldn't resist!"

"You're really gonna eat _two_ of those things by yourself?" Jake asked, unwrapping his muffin.

"Unless _you_ want one," Brooke replied, offering him the second McGriddle.

Jake pushed it away. "Honestly—" he took a bite of his muffin "—I'd rather break both my _arms_ than eat that shit."

Brooke giggled in response, and the two ate in silence for a bit.

"So, uh," Brooke started hesitantly, after finishing her first McGriddle. "I was gonna go visit Rich after rehearsal today."

Jake tensed up. He knew where this was going.

"I think you should go," she continued. "He says he wants to talk to you about what happened. He feels really bad about it."

"I would, but I'm busy," Jake lied. "I've got," he paused, wracking his brain for an excuse – _empty_ , " _stuff_."

Brooke gave him a knowing look. " _Jake_ , you can't keep avoiding this forever. You'll have to talk to him eventually."

Jake thought back to the day before. Sitting on Michael's couch, reduced to a shivering mess at the _thought_ of what happened. _What if that happened in front of Rich? No. That's what_ will _happen in front of Rich_. _Not worth the risk not worth the risk not worth the risk not worth the_

"Jake?" Brooke's voice broke through Jake's deafening thoughts, and Jake realized that he'd found himself there again. Curled up on a couch, shivering. He wasn't crying, but he felt damn near close to it, and Brooke's fearful tone only brought him closer.

Jake closed his eyes, trying to tune out the outside world, while also trying to tune out his own thoughts. Neither were working.

_You've done it again, dumbass._

"Jake, are you okay?"

_Great job, you fucking pussy._

"Jake, do you want me to do something?"

 _You overdramatic little shit. Can't even_ think _about seeing him without having a breakdown._

"Jake, I—"

Jake shot up in his seat, sitting straight up. "I'm fine!" he said, his voice much louder than he wanted it to be. He forced a smile on his face. "I'm _fine_. Honestly."

Brooke looked unconvinced. "Jake, are you sure you're okay?"

"Yeah, just freaked out a bit, sorry." Jake tried to steady both his breathing and the tremor going through his entire body. He thought about the breathing exercises Michael had made him do – _how did they go again?_ "I just… don't think I'm up for seeing Rich today, sorry. After the play is over, maybe? When I've got more free time, and less stuff to worry about."

"Jake," Brooke sighed. "I really don't think putting this off is good for you, like, _emotionally speaking_."

"What makes you say that?" Jake asked.

"I…" She gave him a pleading look before backing off. "Never mind. Just… think about going? Please?"

"Okay," Jake relented, nodding his head assuredly. "I'll think about going."

~~~

And "think about going" was what he did.

In fact, that was _all he did_.

First period, Jake found himself weighing the options in his head. _On the one hand_ , if Jake didn’t go, Brooke would be upset with him – and when Brooke was sad, _everyone_ was sad.

 _On the other hand,_ if Jake went, then he'd probably freak out before he even got into the room. Then Brooke would tell Chloe about it, and Chloe would tell Jenna, and Jenna would tell _everyone_.

 _Or worse,_ Jake could steady himself enough to get into the room, only to have Rich tell him off. _"I never want to see you again,"_ he'd say. And Jake would agree, because it'd be perfectly justified, wouldn't it? It was Jake's fault that Rich set his house on fire, wasn't it? And then he'd leave the room, have a breakdown, Brooke would tell Chloe, Chloe would tell Jenna, then _everyone…_

Jake ended up in second period, still conflicted. He tried to push the thought to the back of his mind, but then he saw Jeremy out of the corner of his eye. Something inside him clicked, and he remembered what Michael told him yesterday.

**_"Jeremy took this pill-sized supercomputer called a SQUIP. It's supposed to help people solve problems, I guess, and Jeremy is using it to make himself cool and that piece of shit thinks that Jeremy acting like an asshole is helping with that."_ **

**_"Rich has one, too!"_ **

Jake felt his chest get tight, as somehow an even _worse_ option popped into his head.

 _What if the only reason Rich hung out with me in the first place was so he could get more popular? What if he only liked me because his SQUIP told him to? What if he burned down my house both because he was trying to get rid of his SQUIP_ and _because he hates me?_

 _What if he was trying to get rid of his SQUIP_ because _he hates me?_

**_What if he was trying to get rid of_ ** **me _?_**

Jake flinched at the feeling of a hand tapping his shoulder. He saw Jeremy standing next to him. He was saying something, but Jake was too focused on his thoughts to comprehend a single word of it. All he could focus on was what Michael told him last night. About Jeremy. About the SQUIP. About who gave it to him. About _R—_

"Jake, are you listening?"

Jake jumped slightly. "Sorry, what?" he asked, looking up at Jeremy.

"The bell rang," Jeremy said. "You—uh—" he jolted suddenly, his whole body tensing up. He took a breath, straightening his back. "You weren't getting up," he repeated. "Are you okay?"

Jake looked Jeremy up and down concerningly. "I should ask you that," Jake retorted. "What the fuck was _that_?" He gestured vaguely at Jeremy.

"What was what?" Jeremy asked, feigning innocence.

"That whole mini-seizure you just had there," Jake explained.

"No idea what you mean," Jeremy replied dismissively. "You're seeing things, bro."

"I…" Jake let out an annoyed groan. "Okay, yeah. Sure. Never mind." Prying was pointless, it was probably a SQUIP thing, anyway.

"All right." Jeremy's casual look shifted for a moment, but Jake couldn’t read it fast enough before he turned away. "See ya!" Jeremy gave Jake a mock salute before leaving.

Jake waited for Jeremy to exit before moving to do the same, glaring at the empty space he left.

_Don't call me "bro."_

\---

Lunch arrived, and Jake found himself sitting in the library.

It was out of character for Jake to stay away from his friends, but seeing Brooke, or Chloe, or _Jeremy I'm-Not-Replacing-Rich Heere_ was a bad idea for him. Even seeing _Jenna_ made him anxious. He'd been watching her the whole day (not in a _stalker_ way, more in a concerned friend way). The day before, he'd had thoughts about how odd she'd been acting – the flinching, twitching, muttering – but what Michael had told him about Jeremy and Rich only made the comparisons between the three more frightening.

It had become clear to him that there were more SQUIPs in the school than he and Michael first thought.

And that's why, after he hadn't shown up to AP Bio – and Jake had confirmed that he was in fact _at school_ that day – Jake had texted Michael:

**Hey bro. Need to talk about SQUIP shit. Meet me in the library ASAP.**

Jake was unsure if he'd show up, but he'd gone anyway. There was something important that he needed to know. He'd let Rich fall victim to that weird computer-pill, and he was going to figure out how to stop it before it got to any of his other friends.

Jake checked his phone for texts – one from Brooke, one from Chloe, and one from Christine in the cast's group chat.

**Christine: Rehearsal cancelled! Band has a concert tonight, and they need the space to set up. Sorry! :(**

**Chloe: Why aren't you at lunch??? Are you skipping???**

**Brooke: Since rehearsal was cancelled, I'm gonna go see Rich right after school. Are you gonna go?**

Jake mulled over whether or not to respond to Brooke, when suddenly he saw a distinctly red silhouette sit down next to him.

"Hey, dude," Michael greeted. "What's up? What about the SQUIP?"

Jake leaned his elbows onto the table. "So, like," he paused, "you've done research on this thing, right?"

Michael nodded. "As much as I can; there's _nothing_ on the internet about this thing," he shrugged. "My sources so far have been a SQUIP dealer who works at Payless, someone I play Warcraft with, and a guy from a 'dark-web' forum who said he wanted to share some info, then sent me several pictures of his dick."

"That sounds fun," Jake replied sarcastically. "In your, uh, _research_ , have you found any way to, um, get the SQUIP _out_?"

Michael shook his head, and Jake felt a wave of disappointment wash over him. "The guy from Payless said he knew, but he wouldn't tell me unless I bought one." He frowned. "I mean, it's important to know, I guess, but I don't exactly have four-hundred dollars just lying around, y'know?"

Jake nodded, shrugging a shoulder.

"Why'd you ask?" Michael questioned.

Jake bit the inside of his cheek, wringing his hands together nervously. "Just…" He broke eye contact with Michael, his gaze settling on his hands. "Just wondering."

Michael gave Jake a fearful look. "You… You didn't…" He pressed his back against the chair.

Jake raised an eyebrow, unsure of what Michael was talking about, when suddenly it—"No!" he exclaimed, much louder than he wanted to (he earned a glare from the librarian for it), raising his hands up defensively. "No, _I_ didn't get one," he assured.

" _You_ didn't get one?" Michael parroted questioningly.

"Jenna," Jake blurted out. "She's been acting weird – like how Rich was sophomore year – I think she has one – and I thought maybe I could talk her _out_ of having it."

Michael looked at him with concern. "Jake, I don't think that's how it works."

"Why not?" he retorted. "I mean, she couldn't have gotten it before Halloween. I'm sure if I just explain to her what it does—"

"There's no _explaining_ , Jake!" Michael interrupted. "They already _know_ what it does. That's how it gets control. It does something crazy, then it gets you to agree to it by giving some asinine excuse, then before you know it, it's _completely taken over your life!_ " Michael paused, looking down at the table. "When Jeremy got his, I was with him. We were at the mall. I left the food court for a few minutes, and when I got back, he was gone. I tried calling him, but my calls were going straight to voicemail. I tried texting him, but he didn't read _any_ of my texts." He shifted uncomfortably, picking at the sleeves on his hoodie. "When I finally _did_ see him, he was leaving with Brooke and Chloe."

Jake remembered seeing Jeremy that day, when he was out with Christine. He remembered Jeremy freaking out, screaming and writhing on the floor – _was_ that _the SQUIP?_

"I tried asking him about it at school," Michael continued. "But he ignored me. I was gonna try talking to him at lunch, but he was with Rich, and you, and I couldn't just walk up to _you_ , y'know?"

Jake nodded, and gestured for Michael to continue.

"And at the end of the day, I'd kinda given up on him, but I stayed till the end of play rehearsal, _just in case_ I was still his ride home."

"I'm assuming you _weren't?_ " Jake interjected.

"You catch on quick, Dillinger," Michael joked, cracking a smile that quickly faded. "I saw him _flirting_ with Brooke, and at that point, I decided that I was just gonna leave – he could handle finding a ride on his own."

He paused, and Jake moved to say something, but was cut off by:

" _But_ , as I was heading to my car, I ran into him – literally – and he seemed _confused_ ," Michael continued. "He asked _me_ where _I_ had been all day. I'll admit, I blew up at him a _little_ , but that was before I realized that he was acting weird because he'd just gotten the SQUIP." He ran a hand through his hair. "And, god, I was _so ready_ to forget about him ignoring me, and flirting with Brooke, and ditching me at the mall – just to go get stoned in my basement with him. I offered him a ride, and went to go head to my car, but…" Michael let out a sigh. "He didn't follow." He leaned onto the table, propping his head up with his arm. " _Optic Nerve Blocking_ ," he muttered.

"' _Optic Nerve Blocking_?'" Jake repeated, confused.

"It's one of the SQUIP's features," Michael elaborated. "If it doesn't think something, or _someone_ —" he gestured to himself "—is beneficial to completing its assigned task, it will _literally_ block that thing from the host's field of vision."

Jake gave him a confused look.

"Like, let's say someone was an alcoholic," Michael explained (Jake thought of Rich's father, sitting on the couch at five in the afternoon, a half-drunk bottle of whiskey in his hand). "If they told their SQUIP that its primary function was to fix their alcohol addiction, then it might block out alcoholic beverages, or images of alcoholic beverages."

"But alcohol breaks SQUIPs, though," Jake interjected. "So that wouldn't work."

"It's a hypothetical, Jake." Michael paused, leaning back in his chair. "Jeremy's SQUIP's primary function is to make Jeremy cool, so…"

"It blocked you out because it thinks that Jeremy hanging out with you makes him less cool." Jake finished.

"Bingo," Michael smiled sarcastically, shooting finger guns at Jake.

Jake frowned in response. "That's why it was like he didn't even notice you yesterday. He _literally_ couldn't see you—"

"Or hear me, or see my texts, or see that you were talking to me," Michael continued for him. "To Jeremy, I don't even _exist_ anymore. Even if I still did, he's too busy flirting with Brooke or Chloe or _whoever_ to notice me. He doesn’t even _like_ them!" He threw his arms up in frustration. "They don't even _know_ him! The only reason he got the SQUIP in the first place was so he could get with _Christine_!"

"He's into _Christine_?" Jake probed. He got a sick feeling in his stomach.

"He's been into her since at least freshman year," Michael stated, crossing his arms. "She seems nice, but I think she's out of new-Jeremy's league. She's not shallow enough to like him."

"New-Jeremy better stay the hell away from her, or I'll kick his ass," Jake stated bluntly. "I don't care if he used to be friends with you, if he hurts her, I will end him."

"I don't think he'd ' _hurt_ ' her," Michael shrugged. "I doubt the SQUIP finds physical abuse ' _cool_.'"

"I mean, like, _emotionally_ ," Jake clarified. "Like what he did to Brooke – that shit is inexcusable. I mean – _shit –_ say what you want about me, I _know_ I've fucked like half the girls at this school, but I never _cheated_. With someone's _best friend_. _While on a date with them._ "

Michael shrugged. " _Anyway_ ," he said, trying to get the topic away from Jeremy's sex life. "If you wanna know how to get rid of the SQUIP, that guy at Payless is probably your best bet. Unless you have any other ideas."

Jake nervously rubbed at his stitches. He _did_ have another idea, but he didn't want to confront it, _maybe he could just pay the guy and then—no._ This was the better option. He needed to do this, more so now than ever.

"I think there is someone else who might know…"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry about the long wait! but i can assure you that the next chapter will (probably) be posted tomorrow, as my apology for making you wait so long.
> 
> ok, so NOTES:
> 
> \- hope you enjoyed Brooke's little bit in this chapter! I want to make sure all the BMC kids get their time to shine in this, so each of them is gonna play an important role (although the main focus is always gonna be on Jake and Michael)  
> \- you can pry adhd jake from my cold dead hands (aka: jake has adhd in this fic)  
> \- the next two chapters are gonna be Real Fun hope you're excited!  
> \- the perfect kitty, sbarro, makes her debut in this chapter. idk if we'll see more of her, but she's here and very cute
> 
> that's all my notes, hope you enjoyed the chapter! I loved seeing all your nice comments, they really make my day!


	5. Reminisce

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jake confronts Rich about the SQUIP

"I can't _believe_ you convinced me to do this."

Jake shrugged, tapping the up button on the elevator.

It was about five o' clock in the afternoon, and Jake (after begging for _several_ minutes) had convinced Michael to go with him to see Rich in the hospital.

("Can't you bring literally anyone else?" Michael had asked.

"You're the only one I know who won't tell anyone if I freak out," Jake had explained. " _And_ , you're the only person I _know_ doesn't have one of those _things_." He pointed at his left temple, a gesture that the two of them silently acknowledged was code for "SQUIP.")

"I can't believe you actually agreed." Jake had assumed Michael had taken some pity on him, considering – well – he didn't have a real reason, he'd just kind of assumed – and eventually relented to driving him to the hospital. On the condition that, if Rich _did_ know the SQUIP cure, they would get Jeremy's SQUIP out _first_.

("Didn't you say he didn't _want_ to get it out?" Jake had questioned.

"I don't care," Michael had answered bluntly. "I want that thing out of him – maybe that'll help him come to his senses.")

Jake questioned how Michael could still care so much after everything Jeremy had done. Jake didn't question it – if anything, it gave him hope for repairing his and Rich's relationship. After everything Jake had done, he'd feel lucky if Rich even wanted to be in the same school as him anymore.

Jake wondered if that was how Jeremy felt, underneath the whole act the SQUIP had him putting on. He wondered if Jeremy missed Michael. They'd known each other for even longer than Jake had known Rich. Without Rich, Jake felt kind of lost – like a piece of him was missing, and not just because of the fire. And Jake could tell Michael felt the same way without Jeremy. Jake wondered how it would be if the roles were reversed.

The elevator door opened, and Jake and Michael went in. Jake's hand hovered over the third-floor button – _maybe this is a mistake. Maybe he really doesn't want to see me. Maybe Brooke's still here. I need to leave. This was a bad idea._

Jake let out a breath, pressing the button. _This is_ not _a mistake. You have to do this. Brooke's probably not here. Everything is going to be fine._

The doors shut, and he, Michael, and some stranger who'd gotten in the elevator at the same time as them, were on their way. Jake wrung his hands nervously, fighting back the urge to check his phone. He'd set it on "do not disturb" so it wouldn't bother him while he tried to talk to Rich – but not knowing if anyone was calling/texting/whatever-ing him was _physically painful_. He pushed it down and tried to focus on the task at hand – _talking to Rich_.

The thought of talking to Rich kind of made Jake feel nauseous. All he could think of were the millions of (very unlikely) ways it could go wrong – _maybe Rich doesn't want to talk to you; maybe Brooke already told him you weren't coming, and you showing up scares him so much that he has a heart attack and dies; maybe a zombie outbreak will start in the hospital and you'll get turned into a zombie before you even get to tell him you—_

"Jake, dude."

Jake's head snapped up, and he turned to Michael, who was holding the elevator door open for him. Jake muttered an apology under his breath and got out of the elevator.

On the way to Rich's room, Michael asked, "You really think he knows how to get rid of the SQUIP?"

"One-hundred percent," Jake answered. "He wouldn't 've taken it without knowing a cure. He may not seem like it, but Rich is a really cautious guy."

"Really?" Michael questioned, raising an eyebrow.

"Yeah," Jake nodded. "The first time we got drunk, he made me make him a list of hangover cures before we even started drinking." He laughed quietly – _that was a nice day_. He remembered first-time drunk freshman Rich crying on the floor because Sbarro did something cute. He remembered entirely-sober freshman Jake thinking it was the funniest goddamn thing – until _his_ drinks kicked in, and he started crying, too. He remembered how cute it was when Rich tried to say "Sbarro" with his lisp, and it ended up sounding like "Th-barro." Jake smiled. Of course, this was all before Rich had developed a sudden liver condition in tenth grade, which made it so his body was unable to process alcohol. Jake remembered Rich crying and apologizing in a _distinctly lisp-free voice_. And he made Jake promise not to tell _anyone_ about it. And he started watering his drinks down to nothing at parties. And – _hey wait a second._

**_… distinctly lisp-free voice…_ **

**_And he made Jake promise not to tell anyone about it._ **

_Oh my fucking god._

**_"I think alcohol shuts it off temporarily…"_ **

_That lying little shit._

Michael chuckled in response, and Jake dismissed the thought (making a mental note to ask Rich about it). "The first time Jeremy and I got stoned together, he was so scared that his mom would find out that he _refused_ to do it unless he could borrow some of my clothes – so he didn't get the smell on his – and he ended up nearly setting my favorite ' _Star Wars_ ' t-shirt on fire."

Jake smiled weakly. "No clue what _that's_ like," he replied sarcastically.

Michael's eyes widened. "Ah, shit!" he gasped. "I didn’t mean to…"

"It’s fine!" Jake laughed it off. "I was just messing with you!" In reality, he wasn't, but he decided to cut Michael some slack.

Michael laughed back nervously, his eyes darting around before they landed on a small plaque on the wall. "Hey, look, we're here," he announced, hoping to dissolve any tension caused by his poorly-timed story.

Jake's gaze also reached the small plaque, which simply has the numbers "321" printed in white letters on a dark brown background. The door was open, and Jake could vaguely make out a shadow peeking out – _fuck fuck fuck!_

Jake grabbed Michael's arm, pulling him back.

"What the—"

"Shut up!" Jake whisper-yelled.

"What the hell, dude?" Michael repeated, whispering.

"Brooke's in there," Jake stated, rather coherently, considering he was panicking. "Brooke's in there, and she's gonna see me and then she'll be pissed off because I told her I wasn't coming and—"

Michael placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "Dude, relax," he whispered calmly. "It's fine just tell her you changed your mind about coming."

"But that'd be lying," Jake retorted.

Michael gave him a look.

"I'm a _really bad liar_." Jake thought back to the one time when Rich's dad had questioned him about where he and Rich had been the previous night. The story was that they'd been out with Brooke (Rich's dad always trusted Brooke), but in actuality the two had snuck off to a party with Rich's older brother. When Rich came home smelling like alcohol, his father had grown suspicious. Jake tried to cover for him, but only ended up making things worse. He remembered Rich coming to school the following Monday with a suspiciously fist-sized bruise on his neck. He didn't talk to Jake for the whole week following the incident.

Jake let his thoughts wander – which, in all honesty, wasn't the best idea. _What if Brooke told him I wasn't coming? What if Brooke gets upset because I lied to her? Then Rich will just hate me_ even more _. Then maybe Brooke will hate me – then I can have a whole group of friends that all fucking hate me and that’s great this is great this is just_

Michael lightly squeezed his shoulder, snapping Jake out of his thoughts. "Dude, calm down – you're hyperventilating."

"Am I?" Jake asked, and immediately realized – _yeah_. He was. _Relax, Jake. Everything's gonna be okay._

Once Jake's breaths were steadied, and he'd started to relax a bit, he and Michael stepped inside the room – Michael leading the way. They entered the room, and there was Brooke, sitting in a small folding chair in front of a hospital bed. Jake knew the figure on the bed was Rich (who _else_ would it be), but Brooke was blocking him from Jake's line of sight. Brooke was leaning back in her seat, making elaborate arm gestures while telling a story to Rich.

"… and then Chloe was all, ' _I can't believe he ditched me for some loser who he doesn't even know!_ '" Brooke continued, unaware of the two new figures who had entered the room. "And then Jerry got all weird and changed the subject so we stopped talking about it, but, like, she was being _super_ possessive. I kinda felt bad, like, they broke up like _two_ _months_ ago and—"

Somehow, Jake found the tiniest bit of courage to speak up. "Hey guys!" he greeted, his voice much louder than he really wanted it to be.

Jake heard two gasps, and Brooke's head whipped around to face him. "Jake!" she exclaimed, a grin on her face, getting up and running to hug him. "You came!" She leaned in closer to him, standing on her toes. "I thought you weren't coming?" she whispered into his ear.

Jake shrugged a shoulder, trying to sound casual. "Just, uh, wasn't as busy as I thought, y'know?" _I never thought I was busy she knows I wasn't busy she's not gonna believe me and_

Brooke stepped back. "Okay!" she smiled, but Jake could tell she didn't buy his story. _She probably just doesn't want to get angry in front of Rich_.

It was then when Brooke noticed Michael – who'd moved behind Jake after they'd entered the room. "Who's that?" she asked, pointing to Michael.

Michael flinched. "Uh, _me?_ " he stuttered out. He took a breath, regaining his composure. "Michael," he said simply, holding out his hand. "I drove him here."

Brooke giggled at that, and turned to Jake. "He's not replacing me, is he?" she joked.

Jake shifted awkwardly, forcing a laugh. "Well, y'know, he's my only other friend with a car," he lied. _Why would you say that? Dustin has a car – she knows Dustin has a car. So does Madeline – god you're a moron._

But Brooke just laughed it off. "Okay." She shook Michael's hand. "Nice to meet you!" She smiled warmly. Jake always liked her smile. Brooke had the kind of smile that could light up an entire room. The way her eyes seemed to sparkle, and her dimples started showing – it was adorable.

Jake thought back to the Halloween party. He remembered seeing that smile as Brooke excitedly told him that it was going to be her first real date with Jeremy. Jake was skeptical at first – I mean, who _was_ this Jeremy guy anyway? – but he'd supported her endeavors (and her idea of a "sexy dog" costume) nonetheless. After busting Jeremy as a cheater, Jake remembered Brooke running downstairs and locking herself in one of the guest rooms, crying her eyes out. In hindsight, Jake wished he was sober enough to comfort her back then.

But that was then and this is now and _now_ he was zoning out of another conversation – which probably wasn't good for his social record.

Brooke was looking at him expectantly – _god wait what did she ask? Just say yes, it's probably nothing important._

"Sure," Jake responded with as much confidence as he could muster.

"Perfect!" Brooke exclaimed. "See you in a few!" She grabbed Michael by the arm and dragged him out of the room with her.

And just like that – they were gone.

Jake stood there for a moment, staring dumbfoundedly at the air where Brooke was standing. _Well shit, now I wish I'd known what I was agreeing to._

He saw a pair of eyes staring at him – _Rich._

Jake felt his heart stop. He wasn't prepared to be alone with Rich. _What if he said something stupid?_ Michael was supposed to be there to back him up, but Brooke had taken him off to god-knows-where for god-knows-what-reason for god-knows-how-long. He felt a pain in his chest – _relax. It's fine. Sit down._

Listening to the voices in his head, Jake took a seat in the chair Brooke had been using – propping his crutches against the wall.

The silence was palpable. There was no noise in the room, aside from the two breathing. You could hear the faint footsteps outside, the two people chatting in the room next door, and – if you listened _very_ closely – you could hear the sound of Jake's heart pounding out of his chest.

Rich was the first to break the silence, with a quiet, "Hey."

"Hi," Jake replied uncomfortably, not looking at Rich.

Another moment of silence passed. Rich let out a weak chuckle. "They tricked you into being alone with me, huh?" he joked.

"I kinda zoned out of the conversation," Jake admitted, still keeping his gaze on the floor.

"You do that a lot," Rich replied, Jake could hear a faint smile in his voice.

Another deafening silence started; Jake shifted uncomfortably, biting his lip. _Just say something._ He opened his mouth to speak, when—

"Wait!" Rich exclaimed. "I—I already know what you're gonna," he paused for a moment, pursing his lips, "tell me."

Jake's eyes darted up in confusion. "You – uh – you do?" he stammered. _Wish_ I _knew what I was gonna say_.

Rich nodded – _well_ as much as he could with the cast restraining him. "Yeah, and, I'm th—" he paused again, a bit longer this time. "…I _regret_ _what I did_ ," he continued hesitantly.

Silence again overtook the room. Jake tapped his leg absentmindedly – _this is somehow even worse than I thought it would be_. He'd planned for Rich to verbally attack him, or – _hell –_ refuse to say anything to him, but _this?_ Jake didn't understand what he was supposed to do. He was uncomfortable; _Rich_ was uncomfortable; and nobody else was here to help them. _What the hell did I even come here to do?_ Jake asked himself.

**_"If you wanna know how to get rid of the SQUIP, that guy at Payless is probably your best bet. Unless you have any other ideas."_ **

**_"I think there is someone else who might know…"_ **

_Right. That._

"There's something else we need to talk about," Jake blurted out.

"Okay, what?" Rich asked hesitantly.

"I, uh…" Jake took a breath. "I know about the SQUIP," he answered, forcing himself to look Rich in the eyes (eyes which, strangely, looked a lot less blue than Jake remembered).

Rich was silent.

Jake looked down, holding his arms close to his chest. _Maybe that was a bad opener. Now he's just more uncomfortable! And so are you! Great job!_

"Who told you?" Rich asked, his voice sullen. It appeared that he did _not_ want Jake to know about the SQUIP. Jake couldn't help but feel hurt that his best friend had kept something that big from him for so long.

"This guy, Michael," Jake answered hesitantly.

Rich raised an eyebrow. "Who?"

"He was friends with Jeremy?" Jake elaborated.

Rich gave him a confused look.

"Kinda tall, dark hair, pretty sure he's Spanish…" Jake continued.

Rich shook his head.

"You used to write dumb shit on him and Jeremy's backpacks?"

" _Oh._ " A look of realization crossed over Rich's face. "That guy," he whispered to himself. "I guess—" Rich cut himself off, a fearful look flashing on his face – and Jake immediately knew why.

"Bro, is your lisp back?" Jake asked.

Rich's face went red, and he hesitantly nodded.

Jake's eyes widened. "How? Is this because of the fire?"

Rich let out a vague noise. "Not directly," he explained. "The—The SQUIP kinda… suppressed it, and 'cause it's gone, my lisp's back." He frowned, darting his eyes away from Jake. "Sorry, it sounds weird – when my SQUIP comes back then—"

"It's _gone_?" Jake interrupted loudly. "How'd you get it out?"

Rich made another vague noise. "I _didn't,_ " he explained. "It's not gone, it's just mad at me."

Jake gave him a confused look.

"I disobeyed it," he elaborated. "So now it shuts itself off whenever I need it. I think it's trying to prove a point." He let out a sigh. " _And I think it's working,_ " he muttered under his breath.

"What point?" Jake blurted out.

"That I can't do anything without it!" Rich exclaimed. "It's so _fucking_ hard to _talk to people_. It sits there and tells me how worthless and pathetic I am whenever I'm alone, but the second anyone else walks in, it leaves me to fend for myself and _I'm bad at it!_ "

Jake scooted back a bit in his seat, startled by Rich's sudden rise in volume. "Bad at… what?" he asked, confused.

"Everything!" Rich shouted. "I can't talk to people without second guessing myself every five seconds; I can't speak without this _stupid lisp_ ; and I can't even _think_ correctly!" His breaths started picking up and Jake realized that he'd made a mistake prying into it. "I—I don't know what to _do_ , or to _say_ , or—or _think_. For so long, _it's_ been doing all that _for_ me." Jake could see tears welling up in his eyes, but he choked them back down. "I should've just listened to it. I don't know why I was being so _stupid_. I _knew_ it would just try to fuck with me after."

Jake realized that prying into the situation was hurting both him and Rich, and he felt a tidal wave of guilt wash over him.

"I'm sorry," Jake apologized.

"It's not your fault," Rich replied.

"Yeah, it is," Jake argued. "If I'd just tried harder to help you with your problems, then you wouldn't have gotten the SQUIP in the first place." He broke eye contact, rubbing nervously at his arm. "I should've helped you with your dad. I should've helped you with the SQUIP. And I _definitely_ should've helped you at the party _._ I've been a shitty friend – no wonder you wanted to burn my house down – _I deserved it—_ "

"That's not why I did it!" Rich interrupted.

Jake blanked on a response, and let his thoughts speak for him. "Then, why did you?" he blurted out.

"My SQUIP forced me to," Rich stated.

Jake mulled over what he'd said – _that makes no sense._ That wasn't how SQUIPs worked, right? They always had some kind of ulterior motive. Jeremy's made him block out Michael because Michael was unpopular. In the long run, it _did_ kind of help Jeremy become popular. Rich's made his lisp disappear because it made him sound cooler. It made him go to parties because it made him _seem_ cooler. It made him set Jake's house on fire – _why?_ Lighting someone's house on fire doesn't make you cool – it makes people think you're a psychopath who committed arson for no reason. Plus, didn't Rich say the SQUIP was angry because he disobeyed it? It's not like the SQUIP could take control of his body, _right_? _Rich_ set the fire _, right?_

It didn’t make sense. _Rich is lying to me._

Jake unconsciously shook his head. _No. He wouldn't lie about this._ "Why?" he found himself asking out loud.

Rich's eyes darted away from Jake. "Complicated," he answered.

"Rich," Jake frowned. "Just tell me."

Rich took a shaky breath.

Jake gave him a pleading look. " _Please_."

"Okay," he relented. "It all started a bit before the party…"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry i didn't post this yesterday like I said i was going to. i added some stuff to this chapter to help w/ pacing n stuff
> 
> anywho, notes!
> 
> \- another appearance from my Main Girl, brooke!  
> \- seems like /someone/'s jealous of jake's new friend! (hint: it's chloe)  
> \- adhd jake zones out of conversations and that causes about 98% of his problems  
> \- legitimately half of michael's dialogue is him saying "jake" in progressively aggravated tones (DRINKING GAME: go back to chapter three and take a shot whenever michael says "jake," you'll literally die of alcohol poisoning
> 
> sorry about the cliffhanger! hope you enjoyed the chapter! follow me on tumblr (@icarusninja23) for updates and other shenanigans!


	6. Rewind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mistakes are made. (warnings for: panic attack, possession, mentions of violence/abuse)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ((oh jeez it's been a while so let me start this off with a HUGE apology/explanation
> 
> so basically my laptop issues culminated w/ microsoft word (where i've been writing this) up and dying on me, so i couldn't edit/write ANYTHING. i couldn't even copy the text b/c it wouldn't let me. it was Way Lame.
> 
> so i ended up getting a new software that lets me edit my word documents w/o having word, which means i can FINALLY UPDATE!!
> 
> thank yall so much for bearing with me through this and i hope you enjoy the update))

" _How_ many?" Rich questioned to nobody in particular, standing next to his now-open locker, a box of "ladies' running shoes" in his arm.

 **Twenty-seven,** the voice in the back of his head answered. **And _don't_ talk to me out loud, **it added in an aside. **You know this, Richard.**

Rich opened the box, which (contrary to what one would expect to be inside a box of ladies' running shoes) was filled with dozens of small, oblong pills – _SQUIPs_ , as they were more commonly known. He balanced the box on the edge of his locker and started counting out how many he needed and placing them into a Ziploc bag.

 _Why do we need these anyway?_ he thought to the SQUIP. _You really think_ this many people _are gonna be buying at Jake's party?_

 **They are…** The SQUIP paused contemplatively. **A precaution.**

Rich stopped counting for a moment. If his SQUIP had been projecting its form at the time, he would've given it a look, but he ended up giving the look to the back of his locker. _So, you don't know why?_

**That information has not been disclosed to me.**

"What?" Rich blurted out.

His SQUIP sighed. **I don't know _why_ we need them, I just know that we do.**

 _Sure, that makes sense._ Rich rolled his eyes.

**Just do it, Richard.**

Rich groaned in response, but continued counting out the SQUIPs.

Something was telling him it was going to be a _long_ night.

~~~

A few hours later, and Rich had made it to Jake's Halloween party (fashionably late, as per the SQUIP's rules).

Rich looked at his reflection in the glass door, pulling the hockey mask over his face.

After spending an absurd amount of time trying to figure out the "chillest" costume to wear, Rich's SQUIP had made him go with the classic Jason costume (Rich couldn't help but feel bad going through his brother's stuff to get the mask for it). Rich was fine with it – mostly because he knew how much Jake loved the Friday the Thirteenth movies – _he's gonna dig this costume_.

 **Of course he will,** the SQUIP affirmed. **Now** **go inside.**

Rich obeyed, double checking that the bag of pills was tucked all the way into his pocket ( ** _wouldn't want Jenna Rolan spotting them and getting the wrong idea_** ).

The party was already in full swing – a crowd of half-drunk teenagers stumbling around to bass-boosted remixed music – _the epitome of a high school party._

Rich put a smile on his face, and sauntered into the room –  after having his SQUIP for over a year, he'd had entering parties down to a science. He waved to Brooke (dressed as a… sexy _dog?_ _That's original!_ ), who was chatting with Chloe (dressed as a sexy… _baby_. _That's original in a bad way._ ) and Jeremy (a cyborg. Kind of played out, but very… _chill._ ) near the kitchen. He saw Jenna Rolan hanging with some sophomores – perfectly disguised in a large creepy clown costume. Or, it _would've been_ a perfect disguise, if she hadn’t posted a bunch of pictures of it on her Instagram before the party. He saw a face he vaguely recognized standing in the back with earbuds in, a sweater with the word "CREEPS" spelled out in green letters being the only vaguely-Halloween-ish thing they were wearing. In other circumstances, Rich probably would've gone over to the familiar stranger and joked about it, but he was waiting for someone else. Someone who was strangely absent from the crowd at his own party—

"Rich!"

**Right on cue.**

Jake ran up to Rich, giving him a high-five. "How long 've you been here, bro?" Jake asked, patting Rich on the shoulder. "I couldn't recognize you with the," he gestured vaguely toward his face, "y'know."

 **He means the mask** , the SQUIP explained.

"It's fine, bro, I just got here," Rich replied. _I know he means the mask,_ he thought back.

"Nice!" Jake exclaimed, grinning. Rich recognized that grin as Jake's kinda-dopey "I've-had-like-six-drinks-tonight-but-I'm-not-as-think-as-you-drunk-I-am" grin.

"Bro, how much have you had to drink?" Rich asked. He never tried to pry into Jake's drinking – he knew he didn't do it often, and he knew he didn't drink because he _had_ to; he knew it was just fun – but Rich didn't really have the time to deal with either blacked-out-drunk Jake _or_ vomiting-all-night Jake. He loved Jake, but his dad wouldn't be pleased if he came home again smelling like alcohol – _again_.

"Just a few," Jake answered, making a so-so gesture with his hand. "Was Christine out there when you pulled up?" he asked.

Rich shook his head, somewhat caught off guard – he'd forgotten Jake had a new girlfriend. He wondered how Chloe felt about that…

"That sucks," Jake shrugged. "Whatever. Enjoying the party?"

**Play it cool. Compliment him.**

"Hell yeah!" Rich exclaimed. "You always throw the best parties, bro."

Jake smiled wider, appreciating the compliment. "You're the best, bro." He turned away. "I'm gonna go chat with the girls—" he gestured to Chloe and Brooke. "See ya!"

"See ya," Rich replied, but Jake was already too far away to hear above the loud music.

Rich sighed.

 **You should go, too,** the SQUIP suggested.

 _They're in the middle of something,_ Rich replied. _I don't wanna intru—_

But his thoughts were cut off by his body moving itself towards Jake, Jeremy, Brooke, and Chloe. Rich _hated_ when the SQUIP did this – take control of his body. He'd expressed to it several times that it made him uncomfortable and in general freaked-out. At one time, he'd even threatened to deactivate the SQUIP if it took control of his body again. It was a hollow threat, however, as he'd said that about five times ago.

_That wasn't necessary, man._

**You weren't cooperating quickly enough.**

Rich greeted his friends, and they all greeted him back before returning to their conversation. _Quickly enough for what?_

" _Look who's here_ ," Chloe snarled, glaring in the direction of the front door.

Rich saw a smile light up Jake's face – this one was soft and sweet – almost lovestruck, in a way. He seemed so excited, Rich couldn't help but smile, too.

"She's here!" Jake exclaimed, rushing over to the entrance Rich let his gaze follow him, only to see what Jake had been so excited about.

That was when he saw _her_.

A beautiful girl standing in an elegant gown that seemed to shimmer softly in the harsh party lights. He recognized her immediately. _Christine._

**Correct.**

_Could do without the sass, frog,_ Rich snarked, fighting back the glare that had slipped onto his face.

 **There's no sass here, Richard** , it replied **. I am simply affirming your suspicions that the girl who recently entered is, in fact, Christine Canigula.**

Rich rolled his eyes involuntarily. He watched as she and Jake chatted for a moment. He noticed Jake awkwardly hunch his shoulders forward – _he always did that when he felt insecure. Did she say something—_

Rich heard a loud high-pitched beep in his mind, causing him to flinch.

 _What the hell was that for?_ Rich instinctively rubbed his forehead – _that fucking hurt._ The SQUIP knew Rich was sensitive to loud noises, so it tended to use those as a punishment for disobeying – but this time Rich wasn't quite sure what he did to warrant it.

 **You weren't listening** , the SQUIP stated bluntly. **I said: Jake is upset because he got his and Christine's couples costumes wrong** , it explained. **They were supposed to be going as "prince and princess." Christine is dressed as a Renaissance princess, whereas Jake is dressed as… "Prince," the musician.**

 _Oh, that's what it's supposed to be._ Rich frowned as he saw Christine walk away – Jake looked dejected. _Probably best to leave him alone_.

 **Go talk to him,** the SQUIP ordered.

 _What—_ didn't matter, his SQUIP was already moving him forward. ( _Why is it being so pushy tonight?_ )

"Hey, bro, what's wrong?" Rich asked empathetically, placing a hand on Jake's shoulder.

"I don't know, bro." Jake rubbed the back of his neck. "I'm kinda confused. I was just trying to talk to her and be polite, but I think I did it wrong."

Rich gave him a pat on the back. "Nah, I'm sure you did great," he added at the SQUIP's prompting. He didn't see the SQUIP smile, but he could feel it. It felt good.

Jake half-smiled, returning the pat with a slightly rougher pat. It hurt a little, but Rich didn't say anything. "Thanks, man," he replied sighing. "Sometimes I wish girls weren't so complicated."

Rich chuckled. "Yeah, me too."

Rich heard the SQUIP's voice break through the noise of the party and whatever Jake's response was. **Give him one.**

" _What?_ " Rich blurted out, resulting in a higher pitched shriek from the SQUIP. He cringed outwardly, but Jake didn't seem to notice.

 **A SQUIP,** it clarified. **Give him one.**

Jake said something else that was drowned out by the SQUIP, and Rich responded as best as he could. _Why the hell would I do that?_

 **Because I _said so_.** The SQUIP sounded indignant.

_That's not a good reason and you know it._

**Either you do it—** Rich felt his hand reach down into his pocket on its own **– _or I do._**

 _Okay!_ Rich tried to move his arm, but it wouldn't budge. _I'll do it. I'll do it – just give me my arm back._

The SQUIP shut up and relinquished control. Rich moved his hand – it felt strange, in a bad way.

"Hey, Rich," Jake's voice broke the silence. "Are you okay?"

Rich looked up at him, clutching the Ziploc bag in his pocket. "Y—Yeah, I'm f—I'm _fine_ ," he assured unconvincingly. He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. "There's something I—" Rich cut himself off, his breaths picking up. _I've done this before – Why is it so hard now?_ Rich tried to continue, but seeing the kind, patient look in Jake's eyes – _Jesus Christ!_ He couldn't bring himself to speak.

**Richard…**

Rich winced at the sound of its voice. "Jake, I…" Rich hesitated, taking a few deep breaths. He backed up, feeling his hand exit his pocket, fingers still gripping the bag of pills. "I need to go!" Rich tried to move, but he wasn't in control. _No. Stop it!_

**_Make me._ **

Struggling against the SQUIP's control, Rich was able to force himself to leave, running into a nearby bathroom and locking the door behind him.

Rich immediately collapsed onto the floor, curling in on himself. A loud distorted screech ripped through his head, it was so loud – it was so _loud_. It kept _going_ , and only seemed to get louder – as if it were the only noise in the room (but Rich knew it wasn't, he could still feel the reverberation of the bass-boosted tunes buzzing through the floor). He tried to find something else to focus on, but he couldn't see anything – hot tears poured down his cheeks, and he could hardly keep his eyes open. He felt a scream erupt from his throat – only then remembering he was at a party and _shit what if someone heard that then they'll just think I'm a freak again and all this shit would be pointless and_

Rich managed to push himself into a seated position, his back pinned against the door for support. He reached into his sleeve and raked his nails up and down his arm, digging into his skin. He shook violently, not helped by his breaths, which were rapid and uneven. He wiped his tears on his sleeve, choking the rest back. He looked up, seeing a black-cloaked figure standing in front of him…

 _Shit_. It didn't make itself corporeal unless it got really, _really pissed_. It didn't like the form Rich had picked, so it tried to avoid it whenever possible. Rich had chosen the form because he'd thought it was funny – and it _was_! At first. But after having it for a while, he grew to fear the relatively unintimidating figure.

But now, sitting in a bathroom with a panic attack bubbling in his throat, he was _horrified_ by it.

It didn't move, it just stood there, menacingly, but that was enough to send chills down Rich's spine. Although they were hidden by the cloak, Rich could feel its eyes piercing into his soul. It made his chest hurt.

It shut off the screeching, but Rich wasn't sure if that was better or worse than whatever it was going to say.

 **What do you think you're doing?** It spoke calmly, yet it's voice somehow felt louder and angrier than the senseless noise echoing in his mind – and even more painful.

Rich tried to speak, but only let out a frightened squeak. His thoughts were all jumbled, and he couldn't get a message across. He prepared for some kind of punishment…

But it didn't come.

He heard the SQUIP sigh. **Richard, what is wrong with you?** it asked, annoyed. **You brought this on yourself. You _knew_ what was going to happen if you disobeyed me, yet you did it _anyway_!**

"I—I know," Rich mumbled apologetically.

 **And now, look at yourself!** it gestured at Rich's entire body. **You've been doing so well recently, but here you are now – shivering and crying like a lost puppy! What would other people think if they saw you?**

"I—I'm terrible?" Rich stuttered out.

It scoffed. **At least you can get _that_ right. ** It let out an annoyed groan. **Get up. _Now_.**

Rich obeyed, despite the shaking in his legs.

 **Go over to the sink,** it ordered. **Throw some water in your face, it'll help you get control of yourself.**

Rich managed to do that, his quaking hands turning on the sink. He splashed some water on his face, rubbing it in with his hand. He watched the water run while the SQUIP continued speaking.

**Now, we're going to go back out there, and you are going to do what you _came_ here to do.**

"Is—is that why you made me bring all of these?" Rich asked, his voice quivering far more than he wanted it to. "Are you gonna…" his voice trailed off, but he internally finished the thought.

… _SQUIP everyone at the party?_

 **Not _everyone,_** the SQUIP assured. **Just some of the more… _prominent_ guests.**

Rich looked himself in the mirror – he still looked panicked – _can't leave yet_. Jenna Rolan would have a field day if she got a scoop like this. He splashed some more water on his face, trying to make himself look more relaxed, more calm, more _chill_. The SQUIP hadn't allowed him to have an attack like this since… since so long ago, he didn't even _know_ when. It would usually just take over his body for a few minutes if either of them felt one coming on – it was the only time he was okay with the SQUIP taking over— _Why didn't you?_

The SQUIP hesitated before responding. **You became emotional very suddenly; my processor takes longer to operate when you are under extreme emotional stress.** It paused, allowing the message to sink in. **Also, you directly disobeyed me – so I believe you deserved it.**

Rich frowned, gripping the sides of the sink in frustration and suppressing a comeback that surely would’ve earned him another punishment. “So, what?” He let out a weak chuckle, turning around and leaning his back against the counter. “You want me to convince everyone here to get a SQUIP? You seriously think that’s not gonna raise any suspicion?” He took out the bag of pills in his pocket, massaging it with his hands.

 **That was just the plan for Jake,** the SQUIP replied. **Well, at least, until you ruined it.**

“Then how do you expect me to get everyone to take one of these things?” he asked, accentuating the word “things” with a subtle tap on the bag.

 **Simple,** it answered. **Lie.**

“ _Lie?_ ” Rich repeated. “You mean, like,” he quieted his voice down to barely a whisper, “you want me to tell them it’s just drugs or something?”

The SQUIP’s silence said more than any reply could have.

Rich looked from the bag, then back to the door, then back to the bag again. “SQUIP, I...” He furrowed his brow, feeling a pit form in his stomach. He felt his breaths start to pick up, but then he felt them slow again, against his will. A sick feeling overcame him – if the SQUIP wasn’t stopping it, he would’ve vomited. “Okay,” he relented, nodding. “Okay I’ll do that.”

He didn't see the SQUIP smile, but he could feel it. It felt _horrible_.

~~~

Rich was no stranger to doing what the SQUIP told him to – in fact that was basically all he’d been doing for the past year and a half. It had never led him astray. Even if he did something terrible – lying to Jake, bullying some underclassman, stealing from his father – things always turned out better for him.

But now, he couldn’t quite suppress the little voice in the back of his head telling him to get the hell out of dodge.

And the SQUIP _knew._ It kept assuring him that he was doing the right thing, and that everything would be better – how much _happier_ everyone will be – but it all felt so _wrong_.

Rich tried to ignore it as he walked up to Jake, forcing a relaxed expression onto his face.

“Rich, dude!” Jake greeted, giving Rich a side-hug. “I haven’t seen you, like, all night!” He let go of Rich, and stared at him with the same dopey grin. Rich stared back, letting the image sink in. “Where ’ve you been, bro?”

Rich thought back to the bathroom. “Just enjoying the party!” he lied, following the SQUIP’s instruction, a fake smile on his face.

**Get to the point.**

“Hey, dude, uh,” Rich stuttered, reciting the SQUIP’s words. “You’ve gotta–”

Jake put a hand on Rich’s shoulder and took a step forward, cutting him off. “Dude, wait, shut up,” he whispered, looking over Rich’s shoulder. Rich didn’t need to turn around to know what he was looking at.

**_Christine._ **

“Hold this for a sec?” He handed his drink to Rich and quickly walked off before Rich could protest.

Rich stared in disbelief as Jake vanished – _probably off to go have sex with her or something_ – until another beep snapped him out of it.

 **What are you doing?** The SQUIP asked accusingly. **Go after him!**

Rich stayed still, the red Solo cup held firmly in his hands. He stared blankly towards Jake and Christine, talking and laughing; a realization came over him. “This is fucking stupid.”

**_What?_ **

“This. Is fucking. Stupid.” Rich squeezed the cup, the crinkling drowned out by the continued dubstep. “Wh–Why am I going through so much trouble for this?”

 **This is _important_ , Rich, **it explained. **If everything is to go according to plan, then Jake needs a SQUIP – it’s that simple.**

“ _Why?_ ” he raised his voice, glaring at the air in front of him and earning odd looks from partygoers. “What _plan_?”

 **That’s not important, Rich!** it snapped. **And _shut up_ , you’re embarrassing yourself. **It sounded angry, but also _afraid_.

Rich felt a sudden rush of confidence. “I–I think it’s time for _you_ to shut up for once.” He glanced down at the half-filled cup in his hands, and the tan carbonated liquid inside.

He laughed.

~~~

Rich tossed the empty Solo cup into the garbage can.

It took about ten minutes for him to figure out what to do.

 _First_ , he was going to get rid of the bag of SQUIPs. That was the easiest part, he just poured them out and flushed them down the toilet.

 _Second_ , he was going to get some Mountain Dew Red – _someone had to have some, right?_ – and get rid of his SQUIP for good.

That part made Rich question himself. _Is getting rid of it_ really _necessary?_ Even though it was borderline abusing him, Rich had to admit it _was_ helping – in its own, weird, somewhat-horrifying sort of way. But when it told him to SQUIP everyone at the party, something inside of Rich snapped. He wasn't quite sure what had done it – maybe it was the mere idea of the school's elite being controlled in some sort of hive mind. Maybe it was the thought of one of those things getting inside of Jake.

Rich wondered what the SQUIP would even do to him. Jake, who collects Archie comics because he thinks they’re neat. Jake, who loves Carly Rae Jepsen and doesn’t understand social media. Jake, who makes shitty puns and cries at romance movies – who uses outdated slang and listens to old musicals – who always wakes up at five in the morning, but still sometimes calls at one AM just to say hey.

That Jake would be gone.

Rich made up his mind.

~~~

Step two was far easier written than done.

At first, he'd tried to find Jeremy – _he had a SQUIP, too; maybe he had some_ – but Jeremy was nowhere to be found. The weird kid who was _always_ hanging out with him said they had no clue where Jeremy went – _although their response sounded really sarcastic_. And even Brooke, who was Jeremy's _date to the party_ said she hadn't seen him in a while.

Rich contemplated going home – he _did_ have some emergency Red stashed somewhere in his room – but Rich didn't know how long the alcohol he drank would last. And he couldn't drink any _more_ , for fear of any spilling onto his clothes — his father would fucking _kill_ him if he _thought_ Rich took any of his liquor. And in his constant stupor, there was no difference between Jake's drinks and his. He needed it here and now, no other options. If he took too long, the SQUIP would come back, and it was _already mad at me for thinking about disobeying it and what the fuck is it gonna do now that I'm_ actively going against it _?_

He didn't have much time to dwell on the thought, however, before someone caught his eye. A bright purple light shining off in the distance. A faint glimmer of hope – _Jake would know what to do._ _Jake always knows what to do._ Rich made his way towards the light, dodging partygoers and conversation-starters; the only thing that mattered was getting to Jake…

 _… who was in the middle of a conversation with Christine_.

 _That's fine,_ Rich thought. _I'll just explain what's going on and he'll help me._

With as much confidence as he could muster, he went up to Jake and tapped him on the shoulder. Jake turned around, taking a few seconds to realize it was Rich.

"Hey, bro!" Jake smiled, giving him a pat on the arm (not noticing how Rich winced at the sudden contact). "What's up, you enjoying the party?"

Rich forced a smile under the mask. "Yeah, bro, it's great!" He paused – _shit._ With the SQUIP out of commission, Rich's lisp had come back – _well ain't that just perfect._ "Can we, uh—"

Christine interrupted him. "Rich, are you okay? You're sweating a lot."

Rich nodded. "Yeah, I'm fine!" he assured, making a mental note to _avoid words with s's in them._ "Kinda hot in here." He turned back to Jake. "Well, I've gotta—"

"You should probably take off your jacket," Christine suggested. "I think you're overheating—"

" _I'M FINE, CHRISTINE!_ " Rich yelled, his face red, a pang of regret immediately hitting him as Christine ran off.

Jake stood up, his towering frame making Rich shrink back. "Dude, chill out—"

"Don't tell me to ' _chill out_!'" Rich snapped unintentionally. Noticing Jake's startled expression, he took a few calming breaths. "Jake, I—" he paused, cursing himself for being unable to say "sorry." He shifted uncomfortably. "I need Mountain Dew Red," he stated.

Jake raised an eyebrow. " _What_?"

"I need Mountain Dew Red," Rich repeated, stressing it more.

"Why?" Jake asked, confused.

Not wanting to go into detail in front of everyone else, Rich simply replied with: "Complicated. No time to explain. I need it."

"Bro, just tell me; why do you need red Mountain Dew?" Jake reiterated, a concerned expression on his face – _Why's he so concerned? Do I look that bad?_

Rich looked between Jake and the other partygoers when a thought occurred to him. _Who gives a shit anymore? Nobody's gonna like me without the SQUIP, anyway – what've I got to lose?_ Not caring anymore, Rich opted to just say what was on his mind.

"I need it 'cause it's the only thing stopping the supercomputer in my brain from taking control of everyone at this party," he rushed out, feeling somewhat relieved that nobody started laughing at how crazy he sounded.

There was a pause, and Jake cocked his head in confusion before letting out a quiet chuckle – _never mind_. "Bro, what're you _on_?" he asked.

"I'm not _on_ _anything_!" Rich cried in desperation. "I'm being serious, I really—"

Rich was cut off by a new voice calling out, "Jake!"

The two of them turned around to see two girls running over to Jake – _Brooke and Jenna_.

Jenna spoke so fast, Rich couldn't quite understand her – the phrase "Jeremy and some girl," and the word "upstairs" being the only part he could comprehend, but it was enough to know the situation ( _so that's where Jeremy is_ ). Jake's demeanor immediately changed. Rich could tell he wasn't just a little angry – he was absolutely _livid_. Rich knew Jake already didn't like Jeremy, and the idea that he was "with a girl” in Jake's parents' bedroom (with the door _locked_ , no less) – that was _not_ helping Jeremy win Jake's favor.

Rich saw Jake stand up and, before he could say anything, storm off upstairs with Brooke and Jenna.

And Rich was alone again.

~~~

"You got any Mountain Dew Red?"

That was the question of the hour, apparently, as Rich went from person to person trying to get his hands on the soft drink. His thoughts were frantic, his mind racing – it was like he could feel the SQUIP coming closer every second.

"No, sorry," some would respond.

"Maybe ask Jake?" said others.

"What's that?" asked the latest recipient of the golden question.

"It's like normal Mountain Dew, but red," Rich answered impatiently.

The kid – obviously a freshman – hummed in concentration for a solid minute before replying with, "I don't think I've seen any."

This was the straw that broke the camel's back. Rich was running out of several things: patience, time, blood-alcohol content.

"SERIOUSLY! _WHERE THE FUCK CAN I GET SOME MOUNTAIN DEW RED_?!" he screamed, utterly desperate.

No response. Just some weird looks, a guy saying, "I want whatever _he's_ having," and two people laughing at him. Two very familiar people. One was Christine, and the other was – Rich gasped – _Jeremy!_

Rich felt a sudden rush of hope as he made his way over to him.

He heard the end of a conversation.

"… will you go out with me?" Jeremy asked. His voice sounded kind and very lovey-dovey. _Very un-chill_. His SQUIP was off.

"Jeremy, I…" Christine sighed. "I can't."

"I—I thought we were friends…" Jeremy stuttered out. Rich couldn't help but feel a bit bad for him. He sounded heartbroken.

"We are," Christine assured. "But I don't think I should go out with anyone until I know who _I_ am." Her eyes darted away from Jeremy. "I know that's not what you wanted to…" her voice trailed off and she stood up. She muttered a quiet apology before running off.

Rich strolled up as casually as he could make himself look. He jokingly made an explosion sound, poking fun at how Jeremy had totally "bombed" that.

Jeremy didn't laugh, and Rich decided to just get to the point.

"Got any Mountain Dew Red?" he asked.

"Okay, this whole ' _no-drinking-while-squipping_ ' thing," Jeremy went off, ignoring the question. "Would it have killed you to give me a warning?"

"You want a _warning_?" Rich replied. "My SQUIP is trying to take over everyone's minds and I need your help to stop it. _Do you have any Mountain Dew Red_?"

At least, that's what would've happened in a perfect scenario where Rich had more access to alcohol. A scenario where Rich was just a _bit_ quicker to get out of the bathroom. A scenario where his SQUIP took a few more seconds to get back online.

But that scenario wasn't this one.

Rich felt a sharp pain in his head.

He blacked out.

**Author's Note:**

> hey everyone! hope you've enjoyed so far!
> 
> \- jake has abandonment issues because of his parents, which is why his friends not really paying attention to him is making him so uncomfortable (idk if i conveyed that well enough so i thought i should bring it up)
> 
> \- i'm going off my own personal bmc timeline so here's some explaining:
> 
> 1\. the musical starts in late september  
> 2\. "upgrade" happens like a week or two before the halloween party  
> 3\. "the play" happens in november
> 
> \- michael is HARDCORE pining for jeremy in this fic, and jake is REALLY oblivious
> 
> \- michael, jeremy, jake, chloe, and jenna all have AP bio together. that's the ONLY class jake has with michael (except lunch), and the first class he has with chloe and jenna


End file.
